Home is a Dark Place
by Madame Destine
Summary: UPDATED - Part 5 added 9/12/02 - With interlopers in their midsts, Elisa prepares to say good bye to the 23rd Precinct as Angela wages a desperate bid for freedom.
1. Part 1

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Home is a Dark Place, Part 1

Written by: Madame Destine  
Email: m_destine@hotmail.com

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Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters belong to their various creators: Buena Vista Television / The Walt Disney Company and The Gargoyles Saga, and they are used without their express knowledge or consent.

A note to my loyal readers at fanfiction.net:

Due to recent policy changes, I have elected to remove all of my NC-17 rated stories from this archive ahead of the scheduled purging on October 12, 2002. If you wish to view a complete, uncensored collection of my work, I ask that you please visit my personal home page at "destinemanor.artchicks.org" or find me in the Gargoyles Fans Fanfic Archive at "fanfic.gargoyles-fans.org". Thank you!

* * * * *

"I understand your disappointment Elder Ptah," Brooklyn said as he resisted the impulse to flop down in Goliath's chair. He stood in front of the video phone in the small stone chamber the gargoyle leader used as sanctuary when dealing with the World Council. He willed himself to stand erect, fighting to keep impatience from creeping into his already fatigue roughened voice. The long trip from Egypt, though foreshortened by hours of stone sleep, had left him irritable. He'd hoped for a quiet night at home or possibly a full on fist fight with a mugger to burn off some of the stress from his diplomatic assignment. Instead, as soon as they'd touched down, he and the twins had been swamped by an impromptu Hello / Good-bye surprise party. He'd hugged and clasped arms with his extended clan of gargoyles, humans and mutates and then he excused himself and Goliath so that he could brief his leader about developments that threatened to disrupt the fragile truce they'd forged with the Egyptian clan.

Senen had gained a partial victory in her plan to force an alliance of blood between Wyvern and the Oasis Clan. Though Goliath had rejected Tiy and Miw, the mates selected for and gifted upon them by the wily Egyptian leader, the males of Wyvern had fathered their children, mixing their seed in an in vitro protocol designed by Demona to fertilize the two females. The Egyptians had returned to their desert sanctuary free to pursue alliances of love. But Wyvern had the eggs and Senen wanted recompense.

One additional egg lay nestled in the rookery. Angela had also been ready to breed and now she and Broadway were expecting their first. That was the compensation that Ptah now sought for the rejection of Miw and Tiy.

Brooklyn had listened patiently to the council of elders. He had promised, without conviction, to make the proposal to Goliath, knowing even as he sat in the cool of the council chamber how his leader would decide. Yet, the former Timedancer had gone through the motions, because it was his duty. He had spoken to Goliath. The great lavender gargoyle had shaken his head in disappointment as if he had suspected that such a request might be forthcoming. "No," he had intoned. "It is not my decision to make."

Brooklyn had returned to the party long enough to pull Angela and Broadway away. Broadway had been happily practicing mugging for the cameras he would soon face for real, his mate smiling indulgently at his antics. When they'd been told of Senen's proposal Angela had cried, then grown angry. She'd refused to calm down until both Broadway and Goliath promised to protect her unborn hatchling. Their evening ruined, they'd escaped, Broadway's beefy arm around Angela's slender frame, to the calm of their tower retreat, leaving Brooklyn as the official envoy to deliver their reply.

He gazed at the elderly bronze gargoyle and wondered again how he'd lost the tip of his horns. Most warriors were proud of such injuries and told lusty tales full of swagger and bravado. But when Brooklyn had inquired during one of the many feasts held in his honor, Ptah had demurred and soon excused himself and Brooklyn was left to wonder what he'd said that had caused offense. He needed to end this. He wanted to return to the party, pull Sata aside and just gaze into her eyes. And later, when the others had drifted away to return to their duties or their own pursuits, he wanted to hold her, to rediscover her, to make up for lost time. "But I'm afraid the decision has been made."

Ptah bowed his head. "You are quite sure, Ambassador Brooklyn."

He nodded and crossed his arms across his breastplate. The Egyptians had often used such a gesture to indicate that a conversation had reached its conclusion and to pursue it further would push the boundaries of polite society.

Ptah acknowledged the gesture. "As you wish." He raised his hands and clasped them before his face bowing slightly from the waist. "Safe gliding, Ambassador Brooklyn."

"Safe gliding, Elder Ptah." Brooklyn returned the bow then severed the connection. The elder's image hung on the screen for a moment before disappearing. Brooklyn turned away, glad that the matter had finally been laid to rest.

* * * * *

"Are you sure you'll be okay, Angela?" Broadway asked for the fifth time since sundown. "If you want, I can postpone the trip. I'm sure Fox can fix it if we ask her to."

They were mere steps from the limo. Owen, wearing his chauffeur's cap, had already loaded Fox's luggage into the trunk and was, even as the two gargoyles said their good-byes, handing the lady of the Eyrie Building into the back seat of the long black car. Angela shook her head and pressed her cheek to Broadway's. "I'm fine," she whispered. "That business with Ptah was horrible, but it's over. You and I have commitments and it wouldn't be fair to the others to put them off just because we let some politician upset us."

"I'll call you every night," Broadway promised.

Angela chuckled as she gently shoved her mate towards the car. "You won't have time. Trust me. Fox has your schedule booked solid."

The burly turquoise gargoyle pouted. "But I'll miss you!"

"And I'll miss you, you big silly." She opened the car door as Owen slid behind the wheel and cranked the engine. "Now get going. The sooner you leave, the sooner I'll have you back. And then we can make up for all that lost time."

Broadway grinned happily at that notion and hefted his bulk into the limousine beside Fox. Angela shut the door behind him and a moment later the car pulled away.

Angela was now left to her own devices. She watched the limousine as it turned the corner and climbed the ramp that would take the car to the street above. Once she was positive they weren't returning she turned her back on them and bee-lined for the lift that would take her back to the castle at the top of the Eyrie building. Personal problems aside, Angela had work to do. She needed to run an errand, and she finally had the perfect opportunity. The clan had scattered to the four winds. Xanatos had departed the castle an hour earlier with little Alexander in tow for a night on the town. Brooklyn, Sata and the twins were having a family night. Her father had left to see Elisa nearly as soon as the sun had set. Hudson had joined Lexington and Delilah for dinner at the Labyrinth, taking Bronx along to play with Talon and Maggie's young son, P.J. There was no one to circumvent. No need to construct an alibi. Angela hurried all the same.

She tapped her foot as the car rocketed up from the subterranean garage to the castle that crowned the building. Angela noticed the impatient gestured and abruptly stilled. She needed to be calm. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. First a quick trip to her workroom for a few magical supplies. Then to the service area where Owen and his crew of unseen housekeepers kept their mops and buckets and other cleaning paraphernalia. From there, she would slip through the corridor that led to the service tunnels and down, back into the bowels of the building until she'd retraced her steps to Sector 13.

Sector 13. Just evoking the name set her nerves jangling. Horrific memories of the Unseelie War flooded over her as the car neared its destination. Angela shivered. She pushed away the image of Maeve, the Unseelie general and her personal tormentor, that rose unbidden. The green-haired woman faded, leaving Angela alone as the elevator doors opened.

Angela hadn't meant to visit Sector 13. She had been as content as the others to leave its secret terrors comfortably alone. But one night, she'd been practicing a drill Demona had assigned. "You must hone your senses, my daughter," the ancient gargoyle had decreed. "Your eyes may deceive you, especially when dealing with things magical. Use your ears, your nose. Let them guide you."

Angela had tied a bandanna around her eyes, masking her view. Her intention had been to find the utility closet where the excess linen was kept, a task she knew she could not do solely by memory because she'd only been there once before. The mask in place, Angela had wandered hesitantly at first through the castle. She found the laundry room easily enough by the smell of the bleach and other chemicals, but when she fumbled her way to the closet, her nose failed her and she missed the proper door. Angela turned a knob and entered a small chamber. Confident she'd reached her goal she whipped off the bandana only to find herself in an unfamiliar passageway. Instantly curious, the fledging mage followed the rough stone corridor noting with interest some while later when the floor became concrete beneath her bare feet.

She chanted a few words and a fairy light glowed pinkly before her. The tiny illumination was enough to let her see she'd wandered far from the castle and into an access corridor of the main building. Still curious, and with nothing but time on her hands, Angela continued her experiment reaching out with her senses until she felt rather than saw the tiny cameras that lined the corridor. A few more magic words and the cameras went off line.

Just as they were doing now. Angela hustled down the corridor easily. She'd made the trip many times since that first night when she stumbled into Sector 13 and revealed its secrets.

The halfling prison. That was all it was supposed to be. A place to keep the foot soldiers of Madoc and Maeve's army imprisoned until they could be transmuted back to their human forms and then someday, perhaps, released back into the world. Xanatos said that the halflings would be kept in stasis until a cure could be devised. All the halflings.

Xanatos had lied.

Most of the prisoners were sleeping away their confinement in the odd blue Plexiglas chambers. Machinery hummed and whirred, providing the inhabitants with a perfect environment that froze them in time. Angela had wandered for many minutes, finally losing count of the number of detainees in the row after row of hibernation units. She was nearly ready to retreat, to follow her footsteps back out of Sector 13 and back to the safety of the castle, when she heard a noise.

She hid behind a bank of generators then froze, still as any of the prisoners, listening with all of her being. The noise repeated. Not a machine, a human voice, young and angry. "Hey, I'm bored here!"

Hesitantly, Angela investigated. At the far end of the stasis room a series of cells stood. About twelve by twelve in size, each contained a bunk, a chair and desk and a partition where presumably a toilet might be found discreetly hidden. All the cells were dark except for one.

Angela saw the boy. A teenager really, she supposed. He looked to be around fifteen or sixteen. His sandy brown hair was cropped close to his scalp, leaving his ears prominently exposed. The gargoyle touched her own upswept ear in surprise. The boy's were similar. Not rounded like a normal human, but long and pointed like an elf or a gargoyle. He was a halfling. But why was he alone free while the others slumbered in stasis?

The boy slumped to his bed and buried his head in his hands. Angela watched and her heart went out to him when she realized he was crying. Involuntarily, she edged forward until she stood exposed to the teenager's view.

He looked up abruptly before Angela had a chance to hide and took to his feet. "Who are you?"

Angela was trapped. She hadn't meant to let the boy see her but now the deed was done. "My name is Angela."

Angela had returned as often as she dared to visit Danny. A few minutes at a time, she'd learned his story. How his father had lost his job. How his family had dissolved under the pressure of mounting debt. How he'd finally run away and fallen into the trap laid so carefully by Garlon, Madoc's chief lieutenant. How at fourteen he'd become a halfling, no longer human, imbued with strength and speed and a fear of light and iron sworn to serve the Unseelie lord and his dark cause.

Angela stood on the threshold of Sector 13 and stared. Work crews labored, hauling away cartloads of crumbled cement and ash. Fire marked the stones, leaving the smell of burned plastic and electrical wire heavy on the air. Fear crept over her as she slipped into the shadows and made her way stealthily towards Danny's cell.

Twenty more yards. Fifteen more yards. Now ten. Then five. Angela crept closer giving a silent prayer of thanks that the work crew was at shift change and the men seemed more interested in gathering for their dinner than paying attention to her. Danny's cell was dark. Burn damage marked the walls and floors adjacent. Angela scented the air and paled. Quickly, she made her way out of Sector 13 and back toward the castle, trying not to let her fear get the better of her.

* * * * *

"What to wear? What to wear?" Elisa murmured as she contemplated herself in the mirror. "Do I want to go for that 'young and vulnerable' or 'old and helpless' look?" She turned away from her reflection and began to pick through the clothing scattered over the bed and dressing table. "What do you think, Cagney?"

The large gray cat declined to answer as he made himself at home on what could have been a homeless person's shapeless, brown overcoat.

"Fine, don't help. I think I've got it narrowed down anyway." Elisa picked up several garments and began to dress. She was plating her hair into a sensible braid when a startled exclamation broke her reverie.

"What sorcery is this!" Goliath strode into the bedroom, his eyes glowing white with alarm. He blinked hard and tried to reconcile the scene before him. _Am I dreaming?_ he wondered. _Still frozen in stone sleep?_ Quickly the gargoyle mentally reviewed the past hour. He'd awoken on the parapets overlooking the city and given instructions to the other members of the clan before leaving to spend a few precious hours with Elisa before she left for her shift. He recalled nothing untoward; no encounter with a member of the Third Race, no magic talismans, yet a considerable period of time seemed to have passed. And his Elisa…

"Sorcery? What? No, not that I can think of." Elisa replied, distracted by her reflection. She turned toward him and her hand went towards her belly automatically to compensate for the sudden motion. She looked down at her fingers, resting on her very extended abdomen, as she caught on to the reason for her mate's confusion. "Oh this." She grinned. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, Goliath. Relax, it's just a costume."

Goliath continued to stare at the human woman he'd chosen as his life mate as his brain and heart attempted to compensate for his initial shock. He felt a wave of relief that Elisa had not forsaken him for a human in the wake of some extended magical absence and yet an echo of disappointment eddied in the background as he realized that she was not somehow miraculously pregnant with his child either. Elisa pulled the plain blue denim jumper over her head to show him the complicated padded prosthetic device.

"It won't work," she continued to explain in her best 'business as usual' voice. "There's no way I can play decoy and then chase down a mugger in this get up. I'd trip over my own feet. No," Elisa fiddled with the straps and the sympathy belly came free. "Better to use the granny costume."

"You are going undercover again," Goliath said as he began to process the disarray that covered the normally neat sanctuary. Wigs in boxes, hats and sundry clothing lay in heaps on the bed and floor.

"Yeah, subway muggers. Matt and I have been lent to a task force. We'll be working with the transit cops to try and bring 'em down."

"I see." Goliath crossed to Elisa's side and removed the tired green sweater she had started to model before the mirror from her hands. He ran a talon softly down the curve of her neck and she turned to face him. "You did not scare me, Elisa. Confused me, yes. I thought, for a moment-" He cut himself off leaving his fears and regrets unspoken. His taloned hand drifted down between them and came to rest on Elisa's now flat belly.

Elisa's face clouded and she looked away. "Goliath," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

"For what, my Elisa?" He cupped his free hand around her chin and gently forced her to meet his gaze. "It isn't wrong to dream. I wish I could give you a child. I know it isn't possible, but from time to time I wish it all the same."

"It is possible, Goliath, but I won't go there." Elisa met her lover's black eyes. "I have you and that's enough for me."

"Elisa, I don't understand," Goliath rumbled, though he did. They had avoided this conversation since their pairing. Now it was time finally lay it to rest. "What are you talking about?"

"Goliath, what's to stop us from going to Xanatos or Demona and their scientists and have them whip us up a baby? The technology's there, Sevarius has already proved that."

"Are you suggesting?"

"It would be a hybrid, like Delilah, grown in a cloning tank, but they could do it. We could have a test tube baby, Goliath, but then what?" Elisa said grimly. "No, I won't do it. No matter how much I might want to."

"You've given this more than a little thought."

Elisa brushed at the corner of her eye. "How could I not after that Egyptian fiasco? You may be siring someone else's kid."

"And I might not." Goliath frowned. "Parentage doesn't matter, Elisa. Those eggs are the children of the clan. Yes, I will be father to them, as the other males will be. And you will be mother to them as much as any other female at the castle. Just as it was in the old days."

"I never thought I'd say this, but it's not the same." Cagney raised his head at Elisa's frustrated tone, assessed the situation and shot out of the room like a bolt of gray lightning. "Gah! Goliath why couldn't you have come in ten minutes later? Even five. When I put that stupid belly on it was about work. Would I make a good target? Could I give chase even though I'm supposed to be the bait? When you walked in everything changed. I saw myself through your eyes. You know what I saw?" Goliath shook his head. "Shock. Fear. Then hope and more then a little bit of pride."

"Pride?" the gargoyle repeated.

"Yeah," Elisa said her voice dropping as she attempted to control her feelings. "That self-satisfied look you get at a job well done."

"I'm sorry," Goliath attempted to explain. "You caught me off guard. That device is quite real looking. When you exhibited no surprise at my entrance, I thought for a moment it was my memory that had been affected...that our assumptions had been wrong."

Elisa silently processed her mate's reaction. His first thought had been she'd taken up with some one else as soon as he'd been knocked out of the picture. Only after had he allowed himself to hope.

"Why did you not tell me this before?" Goliath said softly, breaching the silence.

"How could I?" Elisa said, heatedly. She looked away again, refusing to meet the gargoyle's gaze. "Are you happy now? You know my dirty little secret. I'm jealous, Goliath. Jealous that someone else might have your baby and that I never will."

Elisa squirmed in Goliath's embrace. She succeeded in pivoting, her back against the gargoyle's broad chest. He refused to relinquish his hold and after a moment she ceased to struggle.

"No, Elisa, we will finish this," Goliath rumbled. "I thought it was understood that I did what I did, for the sake of the clan, not because I wanted to but because it was the only compromise acceptable."

"It was," Elisa replied resigned. "Intellectually, I understood and I do understand the situation, Goliath. This is about emotions. It's stupid and I know it's stupid. So let's just drop it. Please?"

An uncharacteristic pleading tone crept into Elisa's voice. She did not protest as Goliath gently turned her to again face him. "Your feelings are not stupid, my Elisa. But if you wish it, we will speak of it no more." He pressed his lips against the crown of her head and she in turn rubbed her cheek against the broad expanse of his chest. Tentatively, Goliath slid his hand gently up Elisa's spine giving wordless comfort.

He half expected her to pull away, but she surprised him yet again. Elisa clung to him, her body expressing need that she was unwilling to articulate. Goliath drew her downward onto the bed cradling her tenderly. "We have each other, my Elisa."

The gargoyle pushed away the foam and nylon artifice that had precipitated their crisis. As it fell onto the floor and out of sight she replied, "I can live with that."

* * * * *

Angela stood indecisively on the threshold of the gargoyle's common room, momentarily unsure of how to proceed. The sudden disappearance of Danny had upset her and she'd left Sector 13 hastily, blindly making her way out of the restricted section and out of the castle itself. She had glided through the city, unmindful of destination, letting the warm summer breeze carry her where it might. When she had finally calmed herself, Angela found she'd ended up in New Jersey. Exhausted and heartsick, she sat on a rooftop watching the comings and goings in a small residential neighborhood that could have been Danny's before his father had bailed out and his mother had crumbled under the weight of her depression, leaving the boy to fend for himself.

"I've got to do something!" Angela buried her head in her hands and forced herself to let go of anger. Bursting into Xanatos's office would accomplish nothing. Danny could have been transferred to another facility or injured in the explosion. She had no proof that he had been intentionally harmed. "Just the feeling in my gut," the gargoyle muttered as a large yellow tomcat invaded her sanctuary. The cat gave her a curious look, sniffing the air to gauge the level of threat the invader might pose. Sniffed the air just as she had, only Angela had caught the scent of blood and fear still hanging in the air underneath the smell of burned circuitry and laboring men.

So she made her way hastily back to the castle her mind a whirl as she plotted and planned and decided she needed an ally.

Lexington sat at the common room table studying a magazine as he sipped absently from a can of soda. Angela cleared her throat to break his reverie. "Lexington, can I talk to you about something?"

He glanced up, a faraway look on his face. Angela noted with surprise that the magazine wasn't one of her rookery brother's typical technical journals but a popular and slightly risqué women's magazine that tended towards articles romantic. Lexington noted her interest and shoved the magazine under a stack of his more usual fare. "Sure, what's up?"

Angela sat down on the bench across from her smaller rookery brother. "It's about the computer. I need some more help."

"Is it the email protocol? I put all the sort parameters in I could think of, but if it needs to be more sensitive-"

"No, no," Angela said hastily. "Having the computer sort out all the routine requests for autographs and pictures and the threat letters has been a real lifesaver. As much as I'd like to there's no way I could answer every letter, I'd be at it all night!" She shook her head and lowered her voice checking to see that no one was approaching. "No this is about something else. It's about Sector 13."

Lexington leaned forward. "What do you mean, Angela?"

Angela swallowed and wished she'd rehearsed more. "Promise me you'll keep this to yourself?"

Lexington hesitated a moment before nodding slowly. "It won't leave this room. All right?"

"I've been to Sector 13. There's something going on down there. Something not right."

Something twisted in Lexington's stomach and he felt queasy. Sector 13: home to the prisoners of the Unseelie War. "That area's big time restricted," he whispered back. "What were you doing messing around down there?"

Angela took in a breath and let it out again. Confession might be good for the soul but it was seldom easy. "It was an accident. At least the first time."

"You've been down there more than once?" Lexington looked appalled at the idea and then he whispered, "What was it like?"

Angela's face clouded. The Unseelie war had not been without victims. "Most of the halflings from that laboratory we captured are down there still in their stasis chambers. They're not quite human anymore, but their metamorphosis into halflings isn't complete either."

"Xanatos said it might take years before they figured out a way make the change," Lexington commented, not understanding the source of Angela's agitation.

"But did you ever consider what they'd have to do to re-engineer the process?"

Lexington shrugged uncomfortably. They'd be poked and prodded and scanned. Blood would be taken and tissue sampled. Methodology would be debated. Spells cast. Scientists and mages alike would scratch their heads in frustration. He knew. Xanatos's people had done it to him. Were still doing it, as a matter of fact, from time to time, to check to the status of the implants Madoc had gifted him with. "What's your point, Angela? There were our enemies. We won. There are consequences to being on the losing side."

Angela looked at her rookery brother, appalled. Of all of them, he should be the most sympathetic toward the halflings. They were Madoc's victims all. All changed forever by the Unseelie Lord's quest for dominion over Oberon, king of Avalon and his allies. "But not all of them joined Madoc's cause willingly," she protested. "Some were forced and the rest-" Angela drew a breath taking a moment to calm herself so that she could explain to Lexington succinctly the information she had learned from Danny. "Most of the humans that were recruited were duped! Madoc and his agents, they lied to them, the homeless and the helpless and the angry. Just like he lied to you. He told them they were misunderstood. That they were victims of powers far outside their ability to control or even comprehend."

Lexington's normally olive green skin darkened in anger and shame. Madoc in his guise of Nicolas Maddox, newly arrived developer of far forward computer technology and rival to David Xanatos, had played him expertly, first pretending to befriend the lonely gargoyle and then rescuing him from an attack that he himself had staged. "How do you know this?"

Though she'd been nearly whispering, Angela lowered her voice further. "Not all of the halflings are in stasis. A few are, were, being kept in a lock up. There's a boy, a teenager, really. Danny. I've been talking to him. Getting to know him. He told me. And now," Angela looked up, her face betraying her fear. "He's gone."

"Maybe he's been moved to a different part of the facility. Maybe he's being treated." Lexington suggested. The same reasonable alternatives Angela had earlier rejected.

"You don't understand!" Angela protested. "You haven't been down there! There was an accident in Sector 13. That was the rumble that shook the castle. It was a shockwave from a big explosion. The place is a mess and I'm worried about Danny."

"You want me to help you find him." Lexington surmised. "But you don't want Xanatos to know about it. Why?"

"Some of the things Danny told me." Angela twisted the end of her long sable ponytail. "I'm afraid that Xanatos may be up to something, something beyond rehabilitating the halflings. I'm afraid he may be planning to sell them to the highest bidder once he figures out a way to control them."

"Angela, that's crazy! Xanatos has changed," Lexington protested. "He'd never do anything like that now." His rookery sister looked unconvinced. Resolve and fear had hardened her features and she looked eerily like Demona. Lexington felt himself weaken. What was she really asking him to do anyway? A little harmless snooping in some highly classified files. Get in. Get out. It would be a challenge. A nice intellectual exercise. Besides, the gargoyle thought philosophically, he needed a diversion from trying to figure out the vagaries of the female psyche. As much as he loved Delilah he still found her moods a mystery, and the magazine he'd borrowed from Fox hadn't added much to his understanding. "All right," he said after several seconds of silence. "I'm in. Where do you want to start?"

* * * * *

Matt glanced at his wristwatch for the third time in as many minutes. "Come on, Elisa," he muttered. He stood in the hallway in front of the locker room the sign of Mars with a slash through it keeping him at bay. Impatiently he waited for someone, anyone to come out.

A female uni gave him a sideways glance as she brushed past him, gym bag in hand. "Don't you have some place better to be, Detective?"

"Actually, Sinclair, I do." Matt grumped at the pert blonde cop. "And so does my partner. But I can't seem to find her. Rumor has it that she's in there." He gave her a beseeching look. "Could you check for me?"

Sinclair grinned and nodded. She elbowed the locker room door open revealing an elderly gray-haired woman in a bright red polyester jogging suit blinking owlishly. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Are you all right?"

The woman smiled. "Right as rain, young lady. Though I seem to be a bit turned around. I'm looking for Detective, oh dear, what was his name? Firestone? Bluerock?"

"Bluestone?" Matt supplied helpfully as Sinclair disappeared into the Women's Locker Room.

"Could be." The woman squinted up at him through thick black plastic rimmed glasses. She leaned heavily on her cane as she rummaged in her purse. "I have a card here somewhere."

"Why don't I walk you to the detective's bullpen and get you a nice cup of tea?" Matt said trying to herd the woman out of the busy hallway.

"Thank you, young man." A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and the woman straightened. Years seemed to melt away as she added, "Make it black coffee two sugars and you've got a deal."

"Elisa?" Matt said uncertainly. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, Matt, it's me. So what do you think, pretty convincing?"

Bluestone nodded and eyed her cane uncertainly. "Is that weighted?"

Elisa nodded and swung the cane experimentally. "It's got a good feel to it too."

"Why don't you use someone else as a guinea pig?" the redheaded detective said as his partner came dangerously close to landing the cane on his shin. "Maybe we could stop by interrogation-" Matt drifted off as he studied his partner. Elisa had done an excellent job with the makeup, but the skin around her eyes seemed puffy and she seemed tense despite the banter. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she dismissed. "Shouldn't we be meeting with the Captain about now?"

"Right." Matt looked at his watch and frowned. "Half an hour ago, actually. We're late."

"My bad," Elisa shrugged. "Costume trouble. We'd better hurry."

Matt caught the 'let's get to business' tone in his partner's voice. "I was talking to Chao over at the Transit Authority. He said we're after a ring of purse snatchers. They think there's at least six and possibly as many as ten suspects, targeting young women, the elderly, or folks in the middle that look like they might be on public assistance."

"They're after what? Food stamps?" Elisa frowned in disapproval.

"Actually, those new voucher cards they're using instead of stamps." Matt held open the door to the Bullpen and the two detectives threaded their way towards Captain Chavez's corner office. "On the street they've become a hot commodity. Someone's already figured out how to hack the system and those cards are like free cash."

"So much for the fraud proof system."

The pair paused at their shared office space long enough for Elisa to drop her cane and purse. Matt picked up his phone messages and leafed through them absently, crumpling several before dropping the rest of the stack into his "In" box.

Maria Chavez was talking on the phone, reading a case file as the pair of detectives approached. She looked up at Matt's knock and waved them in. She made noncommittal noises into the phone for several minutes as her subordinates waited.

"Nice outfit, Maza," Chavez said as she wracked the phone. "But there's been a change of plans." She shoved a file full of papers towards Elisa and Matt. "This is your new top priority. Mayor's orders."

"Okay," Matt said as he waited for Elisa to skim the first few pages and hand them over. "But why us?"

Chavez picked up a pen and made notations on the case file she'd been reviewing. There was no humor in her voice as she replied. "Your expertise." Chavez looked sharply at Elisa. "Read the file for the details, but here are the high points: a string of B&Es at biomedical research labs all over the city stretching back over a period of six months. Minimal forensic evidence. No fingerprints or witnesses. Until last night."

Elisa frowned. "There was a witness," she thumbed through the several more pages of the case file then handed it over to Matt.

Chavez nodded. "Right. Retired cop turned security guard at Midtown Medical Supply. He decided to take an early break. Apparently, he keeps his lunch up in a refrigerator on the 11th floor. Our burglar hadn't counted on that and he surprised it."

"It?" Matt said absently, still reading the case file.

"The guard swears the perp was a gargoyle." Chavez noted Elisa's frown then continued. "Go over to the hospital and talk to him before the press gets wind of this."

* * * * *

Thirty minutes later, the two detectives were sitting at the bedside of Harry O'Neal. Elisa had scrubbed away all traces of her old woman's makeup and her cheeks were faintly pink from the coarse locker room towel she'd used to wash her face. Matt had flipped open his notepad and had his pen poised as his partner attempted to question the victim. O'Neal was in bad shape, his left eye obscured by a thick gauze patch. An angry purple bruise blossomed over his cheekbone. Pain medication dripped from an I.V. tube into a vein in his left hand and the retired cop drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Mr. O'Neal," Elisa repeated insistently. "I need you to stay with me for just another few minutes. Please try and remember exactly what happened."

He raised his hand slightly, the motion made difficult by a plaster cast that covered him from right wrist to shoulder. "Water."

Elisa filled a plastic cup then adjusted the straw so O'Neal could more easily sip. After a moment he nodded and she set the cup down on a bedside tray.

"Better, thanks." He cleared his throat. "Got hungry. Wasn't supposed to be up on the upper level until midnight but I figured it wouldn't hurt. Got a little fridge the lab techs use. Was getting my sandwich and I heard a noise. Turned around. Glowing red eyes. Fangs. Wings. Gargoyle. Don't remember anything else." O'Neal's eyes drifted close.

* * * * *

"Gangway!" Candy yelled. "Precious cargo coming through!"

Danny dodged aside for what seemed to be the tenth time in as many minutes, cutting the denim-clad woman with the short-cropped blonde hair a wide berth as she strode by, arms full. The teenage halfling sighed in frustration. Try as he might, he was seemingly lost to find anything useful to do as his fellows unloaded the night's spoils from the back of the truck. "Come on, guys," he pleaded, approaching the other member of the group as he pushed aside another crate to clear a path for Candy, "can't I help carry something?"

"For the last time, no," Jake growled. "Now move it or lose it, kid." 

Danny sighed again and stepped back as the older man waved him off. He watched as Jake followed after Candy. She gave a quick glance back over her shoulder, smirking, then whispered something that earned her a laugh from Jake as she set down the crate she was carrying. Danny frowned. "This sucks," he muttered. Dejectedly, he kicked at the floor, sending a stray pebble skittering off into the darkness of the huge warehouse.

"Don't pay any attention to those two," a familiar voice said gently. Danny looked up to find Angela beside him. She smiled affectionately, giving a fanged grin. "They're just jealous because you did such good work tonight," she said, ruffling his hair. "You're the best lookout I've ever had."

Danny found himself smiling back at his gargoyle friend. "Really?"

Angela nodded. "Really. I've decided I want you to keep helping me. If you're willing, that is."

"Sure." He shrugged. "I mean… it's not like I've got anywhere else to go. Besides, I guess I kinda owe you. You know, for busting me out of that place and everything."

The lavender gargoyle grinned. "True," she replied. She paused to scan the array of boxes and equipment that sat around them on the loading dock, tapping the screen of a tiny hand-held device with her index talon as she checked off items from a master list. "But you also helped save _my_ tail from Xanatos' robots, so I was figuring us as even on that count."

Danny rubbed at his head. The bump he'd sustained in his escape was fading, but his memories of the actual events past the point where Angela had freed him from his cell were still rather hazy. "If you say so, Angela," he said. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Jake and Candy strode passed again, both still chuckling. "I still wish you'd told me ahead of time about all of this."

"Like I said, Danny," Angela replied, shrugging, "it's all very complicated." She tapped another sequence on the screen of her mini-computer, bringing up a new menu. "Besides," she added, "all that's important now is that we know we can trust each other."

"Of course, Angela. You're my friend. I won't let you down." 

"Good." She touched the screen again, scrolling ahead through a long list, and for the moment did not say anything more.

Curious, Danny edged closer to her side and peered over her arm, checking out the small electronic device that suddenly had her so distracted. "So what's that thing?"

"It's a portable data recorder. It helps me keep track of inventory. What we have, what we need. What stays, what goes. That sort of thing." The device gave a soft beep and Angela frowned. "Where is that electromagnetic centrifuge unit?" she asked impatiently.

"It's right - OOF - here." Gargoyle and halfling both winced as the heavy piece of machinery hit the concrete floor with a hollow, metallic thud. "Damn, this thing is fucking _heavy_!" Candy took a step back and wiped her brow with a leather gloved hand. Absently, she scratched at a non-existent itch behind one of her pointed ears as she caught her breath, paying no heed to the disapproving scowl on the female gargoyle's face.

"Like, why didn't you just use your powers to levitate it?" Danny asked.

Candy rolled her eyes dramatically. "Gee, I would have _never_ thought of that. I must be a total idiot, giving myself a hernia trying to do this the old fashioned way. Oh wait, that's right. I _can't_ use my powers 'cause this piece of junk has _iron_ in it." She shook her head in mock pity, and her tone became even more mocking. "Like, why don't _you_ wake up and get a clue, kid?"

"Truck's empty," Jake announced. "So unless something fell out, that must be everything." The tall, wiry man stepped back out onto the loading bay and dusted off his gloved hands, oblivious to his partner's sudden change in mood until he heard her muttering icily under her breath.

"Stupid little bastard newbie."

"Enough," Angela growled, flaring her wings. She snapped her PDA shut and slipped it into a pouch on her belt. "You two," she said, indicating Candy and Jake, "get that unit moved into the lab, then finish packing the shipments that are supposed to go out in the morning. And try _not _to break anything this time." Her eyes narrowed into slits as she focused her glare at Candy. "I'm leaving Danny to supervise. If there is any more bickering or screwing around, you will answer to me. Got it?"

Candy crossed her arms, scowling. She opened her mouth to reply but, noting the gargoyle's tense posture, decided the first words that came to mind were better kept to herself. "You're the boss, _Angela_," she said at last, drawling the name to finish with an odd smirk upon her lips.

The dark-haired gargoyle lashed her tail menacingly. "Yes, I am," she replied, "and don't you forget it." Danny looked up as a taloned hand fell upon his shoulder. Angela was not smiling anymore. The look on her face was cold and purposeful. "You're in charge here. I have to go. I've a meeting to attend and I don't want to be late."

* * * * *

"Where in the world is she? You know I don't have all night." Dr. Lilith Ling checked her watch and frowned. 

"Patience, my dear, patience. You're early. I'm sure she'll be here in a few minutes." Dr. Anton Sevarius settled into his place behind the desk and smiled, gesturing to one of the empty chairs that sat nearby. "Have a seat. Take a load off. I'm sure you've probably had a very long day."

The contempt-filled scowl on the Asian woman's face only deepened as she shrugged off her suit jacket. The office was warm, and the temperature was making the clothes she'd already worn all day just that much more uncomfortable. "Only thanks to _you_," she replied as she gave in and sat down. "Xanatos has my entire division working twelve-hour days since that little fiasco, and he's got security at the building stepped up so tight now you'd think you were walking into the Pentagon. It wasn't supposed to go down like that, Anton. You two _both_ promised me it would be a discreet and surgical operation."

Sevarius shrugged. "What was it my high school biology teacher used to say in situations like this? Ah yes, 'feces happens'." He gave an odd smile as Dr. Ling glared at him, not amused. 

"Such a clever wit," she retorted. "Why don't you just tell me why I'm here so we can make this short and sweet. Since it's obviously not to apologize for making my work life a living nightmare, I can only assume you want something from me. Again."

"Actually, my dear, I'm not the one who called this meeting." Sevarius stood up, smiling as the door opened as if on cue. "She is."

"Good evening, Doctor." The lavender-skinned gargoyle inclined her head slightly as she passed through the doorway, a move necessitated by her upswept hairstyle. She had done away with the simple braid and instead pulled the center portion of her long, dark tresses into a high, flowing ponytail secured by a sculpted gold band. Once in the room, she lifted her head again and smiled as she saw Dr. Ling. "And good evening to you, Doctor." The tip of her tail twitched as she smoothed a stray hair back into place with a talon. "My ears are itching. Was somebody talking about me?" 

The human woman crossed her arms and did not rise from her chair. "It's about time you got here."

"Dr. Ling, please!" Sevarius looked mildly appalled. "Is that any way to greet the young lady?" He turned his attention back to the girl, taking her taloned hand into his own and guiding her fully into the room. "Please pardon the good Doctor, Jessie. She seems in a foul mood tonight."

"Sorry I'm a little late," the young gargoyle said, "but I just couldn't _bear_ to wear that dreadful tunic any longer. I only took a few moments to change." Gracefully, the young gargoyle uncaped her wings, revealing a long, form-hugging gown of black satin. "My poor sister has such drab tastes when it comes to clothing," she commented as she placed her hand on her hip and twirled to show off the dress. "It feels good to be me again."

"As much as I'm enjoying the fashion show, Jezebella," Dr. Ling interrupted, "I'd really like to go home and get some _sleep_ tonight, too. So can we get down to business, please?"

Jezebella shot the other woman a withering look and resettled her wings. "You _are_ in a foul mood tonight," she commented. "Is it that time of the month again already?"

Dr. Ling scowled. "I just want someone to tell me what's so important that I _had_ to come here tonight. Burnett is breathing down everyone's neck right now. Do you realize the risk I'm taking coming here?"

"Yes," Jezebella replied, "but I see you came anyway." The gargoyle smiled sweetly, then turned her attention back to Sevarius. "The updated inventory after tonight's mission, Doctor."

Sevarius accepted the PDA from her and quickly reviewed the list. "Excellent, my dear," he replied. He returned the device to her, smiling. "No more problems with the halflings, I trust?"

"No. They managed to behave themselves tonight. No major difficulties, either. Just one small interruption. There was a security guard in the building that _someone_ neglected to warn me about." Jezebella cast a sideways glance at Dr. Ling. "He surprised me in the lab… but I took care of it." She smiled proudly.

"How unlucky for him," Sevarius mused. "Good work, Jessie."

The girl curtsied daintily. "Thank you, Doctor. That's not the reason for this meeting, though. There's something else I want to share with the both of you." Jezebella took a step closer to where Dr. Ling sat and smiled oddly. "You've never met my twin sister, Angela, have you, Doctor?"

Dr. Ling shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "No," she replied slowly, not certain where this was going. "I've only seen her on T.V."

Jezebella nodded. "Who hasn't? Well, you'll get your chance to meet the little media darling soon enough. I'll even personally introduce you, and make her give you an autograph." Lifting her tail, Jezebella spun on her heel and sat down lightly on the edge of Sevarius' desk. "I've decided to invite my dear sister for an extended stay," she announced, smoothing the skirt of her dress with her talons, "while I take her place for a while as everyone's favorite gargoyle."

Sevarius raised an eyebrow. "You wish to infiltrate Goliath's clan? Intriguing."

"Yes, with your permission, Doctor," Jezebella answered coyly, "but not just the clan. That's more of just a personal bonus. The real prize is Sector 13."

Dr. Ling blinked in disbelief. "Wait a minute. Did I miss something? What makes you think the gargoyles have access to that facility?"

Jezebella smiled. "A little birdie told me."

"Danny," Sevarius guessed. "So he turned out to be useful to you after all."

"Oh yes. And he sings a very interesting song. According to him, my dear sister has recently taken up a new hobby: baby-sitting the halflings." Jezebella tilted her head and batted her eyes in mocking imitation of her sibling. "Just something to fill her time when she's not busy smiling for the cameras, I suppose."

"Fascinating. Do go on, Jessie."

The dark-haired gargoyle smiled. "Turns out, that's why Danny thought I was Angela, and why he helped me escape after Candy's screwing around with the stasis chambers set off the alarms. She'd been visiting him regularly for over a month. From how he tells it, it's almost like she's adopted him."

Sevarius made a face. "It sound like old habits die hard. How... cute."

"Sickeningly so," Jezebella agreed. "That kid follows me around like a lost puppy." She smirked, adding, "I think he even has a bit of a crush on me. Or rather, a crush on my dear sweet sister."

Dr. Ling rubbed her temples, feeling a dull headache coming on. "Okay. So you want to impersonate Angela and use her clearance to get into Sector 13. Fine. And this teenage halfling may have a thing for you. Great. So tell me, please, before I lose my mind… where does any of this involve _me_?"

"I was just getting to that." Jezebella pushed off from the desk and hopped back to the floor, swishing her tail as she turned her full attention to Dr. Ling. "You, my dear, are going to help me study for the role. It's been too long since Angela and I last parted company. I'll need to research the part thoroughly, and learn everything I can about my sister and her clan before I assume her place in it. Ideally, I would spend at least a month preparing, but if I wait that long, I'll miss my best window of opportunity." She crouched down, placing her hands on the arms of Dr. Ling's chair as she put herself at eye level with the middle-aged woman. "I'm sure you've seen the papers, too, Doctor. Angela has started franchising. She just sent her significant other off on a west coast publicity tour. With him temporarily out of the way, I have my best chance to make a successful switch."

"I'm a doctor, not an acting coach, Jez. Get to the point, please."

Jezebella smiled. "I want to make this happen before my sister's loving mate returns from Hollywood. I need you to provide me with a crash course on my sister's clan. I know Xanatos must have files on them somewhere on his computers. I want you to find them, and bring copies to me."

Dr. Ling stared at Jezebella, incredulous. "Are you insane? There's no way I can do that!" She stared Jezebella in the eye defiantly. "I already gave you your chance with Sector 13. Key cards. Schedules. Blueprints. Sheesh, I did everything short of giving you a guided tour! _You_ are the one who screwed it up, Jez. A month's worth of planning down the drain just like that," she said, snapping her fingers. "No, I'll be damned if I'm going to stick my neck out for you again. I'm as good as fired if I make copies of classified files and Xanatos finds out."

Jezebella's expression turned hard and her eyes glowed faintly red. "Just what _do_ you value more, Doctor… your job… or your health?" She settled onto her haunches, baring her fangs as she held the human woman momentarily pinned, a captive in her seat. "It's time to decide just whose side you are on. Are you with us, or are you with Xanatos? But before you decide," she purred, "I must warn you. Xanatos may be able to terminate your employment, but _I_ can do far worse things to you than that." She leaned in close, edging Dr. Ling back until she had no room left to retreat. "Trust me, Doctor," she said quietly. "You do _not_ want to cross me. I know how to find you and I promise that, whatever I do, you'll _never_ see it coming."

"Temper, temper, Jessie." A hand fell upon her shoulder and the gargoyle looked up. "You do so take after your mother sometimes," Sevarius said. Taking her taloned hand again, he gently urged the girl back to her feet. "Don't worry, my dear. I'm confident Dr. Ling will not let us down." He cast a friendly smile at the other woman, who was still edged back in her chair, and patted Jezebella's hand reassuringly. "I know you're feeling a bit stressed, Jessie," he went on, moving her back a few steps to give Dr. Ling some room, "but you really should save your ire for Miss Angela."

"She _will_ pay," Jezebella hissed.

"Yes, yes, my dear. All in good time." Sevarius guided Jezebella behind the desk and into his own chair, then placed himself between the two women. "Now let's move on and put this bit of unpleasantness behind us, shall we? Last week's little misadventure in reality is only a small setback, and we can't afford to let it bog us down. We must all pull together and forge ahead." He paused, making sure he had his audience's full attention. "Now then. Miss Jezebella has proposed a new plan which presents us with a unique opportunity. As I see it, we _all_ potentially have something to gain here. So it would be quite foolish to let our tempers get the better of us, don't you both agree?"

Jezebella slowly nodded, but Dr. Ling only scowled. "I still don't see how _any_ of this benefits me. She wants _me_ to risk my job so _she_ can play house with the local gargoyle clan and snoop around Sector 13. How does that gain me anything? If she gets caught, I'm just one more big step closer to an involuntary early retirement."

"I will _not_ get caught," Jezebella snapped.

Sevarius raised his hand, cutting her off. "Nothing worthwhile comes without risk, Doctor. But come now, think of the big picture. How long has it been now since you began working for Xanatos? How long have you been trapped in the limbo of middle management, waiting for approval to begin the research study you've told me about. The one you have planned for the halflings?"

"You know quite well how long," she replied sourly, her expression darkening. "Over two years, and so far I haven't even been allowed access to a live test subject. Every time I ask about it, all I get is Burnett telling me that my proposal is 'still being reviewed.'" She glanced at Jezebella. "Curse them. I know my theories are sound." 

Sevarius cleared his throat. "Yes, and I'm still willing to offer you the chance to prove it. We're close, Lilith. _Very_ close. Once Jezebella gets the last bit data we need, I'll be able to persuade the last of our investors to commit. You'll have your own lab, just like you've always wanted. So please, ask yourself, do you really want to give up now?"

The question hung in the air for a long moment, until Jezebella broke the silence. "If you want test subjects, Doctor," she said quietly, "then help me get inside the Eyrie. I'll not only get that data, I'll bring you all the halfling test subjects you could possibly need."

Dr. Ling raised an eyebrow. "Starting with your little 'lost puppy'?"

Jezebella gave Sevarius a quick glance. "When my sister is locked up in a cozy little cell and I'm roosting on her perch on the towers of Castle Wyvern… he's all yours."

"Start writing your letter of resignation, Doctor," Sevarius added. "You're going to need to devote all of your time to getting your newest project up and running."

For the first time since her arrival, the Asian woman smiled. "Okay. You've got a deal."

* * * * *

Jezebella stared at the reflection in the mirror. A half hour of styling and combing had transformed her ornate hairstyle back into a simple gathered braid, and once more she had donned the itchy, roughly cut lace-up tunic. With the slipping of a gold bangle bracelet about her wrist, the image was again complete. Angela, her twin sister, stared back at her from the glass. Angela, the sister whose cruel lies had led to her expulsion from the clan. The sister who had turned her own parents against her. The sister who had left her with nothing, and who she despised more than anything. Soon it would be _her_ turn to know what it feels like to lose everything. Soon _Angela_ would know what it means to be miserable and alone, watching helplessly from afar as her sister basked in the spotlight of love and admiration. The thought made Jezebella smile, but it would be only the beginning of Angela's punishment. "So many long years apart," she mused. "We'll just have to get to know each other all over again."

A knock on the door frame startled her from her thoughts. Jezebella turned to find Dr. Sevarius standing just outside the room. "It's almost dawn," he said. "Candy and Jake have left to make that delivery. I sent Danny with them."

"Tempting fate again, Doctor?" Jezebella smirked. "You know if Candy kills him, Dr. Ling is not going to be happy."

Sevarius chuckled. "Candy will keep her temper in check. I took her aside and had a little chat with her. I told her to start making preparations for your sister's accommodations, and I promised her that you'd liberate Tanya for her once you were inside."

Jezebella sniffed disdainfully. "Her obsession with that one is what nearly got us all killed the first time. Besides, I thought you and Dr. Ling both had _other_ things in mind for whoever young Miss Angela can cajole into escaping with her from the Eyrie."

"Yes," Sevarius replied, "we do. But what Candy doesn't know won't hurt her, will it?" He stepped into the room, smiling as he spied the amused grin that flitted across the girl's delicate features. Dressed in the replicated clothing, she was truly a perfect spitting image of Angela. "That was an excellent performance you gave earlier, by the way. Poor Lilith nearly wet herself." 

"I do try. But I think I'll wait until I see what she delivers before accepting too many compliments." She tugged at the hem of her tunic, and turned to the mirror once more. "Ugh. How she can stand to wear this night after night, I'll never know."

"Are you sure you want to go forward with this, Jessie?" Sevarius had stepped up behind her. She could see him now, reflected in the mirror behind her. "It won't be easy, you know. Dr. Ling did have a point. How can you be sure you'll be able to fool them?" 

Jezebella adjusted the laces at the front of the tunic, searching for a fit that better accentuated her cleavage. "I've managed to keep that silly boy fooled for over a week, haven't I?"

"Yes, you have. But it's going to be a lot harder to fool Goliath and his clan. Reading up on them is only going to get you so far. You'll have to study Angela intently, and learn her mannerisms. You'll need to watch those tapes of her television appearances over and over again. Are you certain you are up to it? I've grown rather fond of you, and I would hate to see you succumb to a saccharine overdose."

The girl chuckled. "It will be painful, but I'll manage." She grinned wickedly, satisfied at last with her appearance, and turned around to face the man who had taken her in when everyone else had rejected her. "Don't worry about me, Doctor. I've been waiting for this for a _long_ time. I'll be ready. You will get your data… Dr. Ling will get her test subjects… I will get back what is rightfully mine… and Angela will get everything that's coming to her."

Sunrise arrived unseen, freezing Jezebella in stone with her lips curled in a feral grin. Sevarius reached out a hand and trailed his fingers down the smooth surface of the girl's cheek. "Yes, Jessie," he said, "I'm looking forward to seeing Miss Angela again, as well."

* * * * *

"Thanks." Matt accepted the cup of black coffee from the street vendor and knocked back a healthy slug. Elisa joined him balancing a hot dog, plain for a change, on top of her cup. The two detectives walked a short way into the park that fronted Midtown Medical Supply and sat down on a stone bench. The early morning sunshine blazed down promising a blistering afternoon. Elisa glanced upwards. "I hate double shifts."

"Get used to it," Matt grumped. "If we don't solve this case in a hurry the Captain's gonna have us doing doubles in Traffic Control."

"For the rest of our careers. Yeah, I got the hint, Matt." Elisa sipped coffee. "Problem is I don't have any idea how to solve this case. Forced entry from the roof, no alarms; definite signs of gargoyle involvement. There was a time when if something like this happened I'd know exactly who was responsible."

"Demona?" her partner replied.

"Yeah, Demona," Elisa said between long swallows of coffee. "But this really isn't her style anymore. Now if she needs something from a competitor she just buys the entire company. I can't really see her keeping her hand in for old time's sake."

"There're been other gargoyles gone bad," Matt suggested. "What about that Thailog guy?"

Elisa shook her head as she started in on the hot dog. "Red glowing eyes. O'Neal said. That's a female gargoyle, Matt. The males' eyes glow white when they're upset or angry. Besides, Thailog is dead."

"We should go talk to Demona," Matt said. "Rule her out."

Elisa nodded reluctantly. "I suppose. But let's finish reviewing the rest of the crime scenes. The fewer doubles we have to pull, the happier I'll be."

"Where to next?"

Elisa crumpled the hotdog wrapper and stuffed it into her coffee cup before consulting her notes. "Tri Cities Biotech or Alpha Technology. Both addresses are over on Lexington. Alpha Technology was hit first three months ago."

"Waste of time."

"I know," Elisa agreed. "Any physical evidence is long gone. But there's got to be something tying all these break-ins together and maybe talking to the employees will give us some kind of a lead. Wait a minute. You have the inventory lists?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah, in the car, plus this one." He pulled a notebook out of his coat pocket and flipped it open.

"Good. Maybe someone in the trade can tell what our thief is up to."

* * * * *

An hour later Elisa and Matt sat in the cramped office of Dr. Lilith Ling, ignoring the chill of a ventilation system on overdrive. The interview at Alpha Technology had been brief and added little to the information they already had on record. So the detectives had retreated to the sweaty confines of the Fairlane long enough to move the car closer to Tri Cities Biotech and tried again.

Now Elisa was starting to miss both the summer swelter and her favorite bomber jacket. The lightweight beige pantsuit she wore was bare protection against the cold though their interviewee seemed to be immune. She was a woman in her early to middle thirties, neat and composed in her long white lab coat, her dark hair sensibly coifed in a pageboy style that cleared her collar by a comfortable inch. A pair of Ben Franklin reading glasses sat among the research notes on her desk and she slipped them on as Matt handed over the list of stolen equipment he'd cobbled together from the theft reports.

"Care to tell me who is missing these items?" Ling asked as she surveyed Bluestone's handiwork.

"We could, but we don't want to influence your opinion," Elisa replied. "In all seriousness, Doctor, we're two cops out of our league with this genetic engineering stuff. We need your help. Most of your colleagues are concerned that cooperating with us is going to inadvertently reveal some deep dark trade secret. So if you could tell us, what would somebody do with that equipment? What does that list suggest to you?"

"I understand your dilemma." Ling smiled. Though she was plain featured, her face was animated pleasantly as she chuckled. "Unless we're bragging about a new discovery in a trade journal, as a group, we scientists are a closed mouth lot. We're always afraid that we'll give someone else in the community a brainstorm and cut ourselves out of a research grant." She returned her attention to the list. "Hmm, this is interesting."

"What's that?" Matt leaned forward attentively. Elisa noticed his tie was askew from being loosened and hastily straightened.

Ling adjusted the half framed spectacles that had slid precariously forward. "First, let me preface my statement by saying that I'm not a geneticist, my specialty is behavioral studies as applied to genetics, but as a lab manager I do have a decent understanding of the equipment that is used in our facilities. The equipment and items on this list is interesting. To me it suggests three possible alternatives. One: theft for resale. Have you checked eBay or the specialty auction houses?" Off the detectives' dual head shake and Elisa's quick notation in her notebook, she moved on. "Two: Somebody is building a laboratory in their basement and doesn't have the resources to acquire equipment through normal channels. Or, and this is strictly speculation on my part, someone was less interested in the equipment and more interested in throwing their competition's timetable off track."

"What are you saying, Doctor?" Elisa's frowned. "Industrial sabotage?"

Ling shrugged. "It's possible. Or espionage with the thefts as cover. The proprietary samples taken from each lab, including this one, give credence to that alternative. It could be that the thief is a dark horse looking to make up time or perhaps someone curious what the competition is up to."

Matt's eyes betrayed his skepticism and something else. Ling noted it and argued on. "Assume you were setting up an underground genetics lab with the intention of human cloning. Which, given the current political atmosphere, isn't as far fetched as you might imagine. You'd only need a bare minimum of equipment. There's no real need for redundancy. According to this inventory your thief has acquired several nearly identical units of different manufacture. Now, because most scientists prefer consistency, this tells me that this equipment came from multiple facilities. See here. The Alteri 3000 and the Jensen B/4? Those are both essentially identical machines used to process tissue samples. Your culprit really doesn't need both." The behaviorist removed her glasses. "I can see you're skeptical, Detectives. But you have to understand. We lost months' worth of research time. Those months could make the difference between patenting a new protocol for gene splicing or losing our place in the research community to someone else. It's a race and we're all running for the same prizes."

The detectives mulled over Ling's declaration for a few moments then exchanged a glance. They both rose and Elisa held out her hand. "Thank you, Doctor. You've given us a lot to think about."

Ling gripped it briefly then moved from behind the desk to usher her visitors out of the office. "You're welcome, detectives. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to the race."

She closed the door and turned her back against the glass her mind spinning furiously. It was possible, she supposed, that she'd handed the pair Anton's side business, but Ling didn't think so. Not even Sevarius would be that obvious in disposing of his stolen merchandise. Besides, often a little dose of truth was useful in selling a bigger lie. She had sized her visitors up carefully and offered the mundane explanation to Detective Maza. Bluestone had seemed uninterested so Ling had baited her line carefully and watched as the redheaded detective followed like a hungry trout. He'd snapped at the industrial espionage theory, taking it hook, line and sinker. He'd be off chasing ghosts and shadows for weeks. Ling relaxed. No point in worrying Sevarius about her little chat with Detectives Maza and Bluestone.

* * * * *

"All right, Owen, what's next on the agenda?" David Xanatos inked his signature on the last of a stack of SEC filings and looked up expectantly at his aide de camp.

"Progress report from Sector Thirteen, sir." Owen retrieved the financial documents and handed over a folder marked 'Confidential'. He adjusted his spectacles and began to recap. "As you can see, the tremor that was felt throughout the building was caused by an overloaded generator, the result of someone attempting to circumvent a stasis field force field. None of the units went off-line due to the redundant protective systems, however, the explosion resulted in a fire and subsequent smoke and water damage: buckled steel, fractured concrete, masonry damage and so forth. Crews have been working around the clock and the foreman believes that the structural repairs will be completed by tomorrow afternoon."

"Excellent. And the generator?"

"A replacement generator was available from Stores and has been moved to Sector 13. Installation will begin as soon as the safety inspector has signed off on the structural work."

David stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Good. And the missing assets?"

Burnett pursed his lips as if sucking an invisible lemon. "No new information, sir."

"Suspects?"

The phone rang. Owen scooped up the receiver. "Yes, Holly. Thank you. Bring it right in." He cut the connection. "New information, Mr. Xanatos."

A thirty-ish woman with an efficient bob haircut and severely tailored suit entered the office. "This was brought over by messenger, sir," she said addressing a point in the air midway between Xanatos and his aide. The secretary handed the parcel to Owen and withdrew.

David handed his assistant an elaborately engraved letter opener. "Who's it from?"

"Dr. Wang," Owen replied as he handed over a CDR.

Xanatos fed the disk into his computer workstation and typed in a decrypt code. A PDF type document appeared on screen displaying the title "Forensic Analysis: Sector 13" followed by the table of contents of the report. "Let's cut to the chase, shall we?" He selected the summary page and began to read. A second later he glanced up at Owen. His aide was silent as his eyes flicked over the page of densely worded text. He wore the same discomfited expression as when they'd had no information at all.

"Well, this is interesting." David said at last.

"Indeed, sir and quite conclusive." He glanced at his boss for permission as he moved to an auxiliary keyboard. "If I may?"

Xanatos waved absently as his spare blonde assistant brought up the detailed reports on the blood and tissue analysis. He then minimized the file momentarily while accessing another portion of the computer. A moment later two blood sample reports were lined up side by side.

"A perfect match," David conceded. "And hers were the only finger, I mean, talon prints?"

Owen's fingers flew over the keyboard and a second comparison blossomed on the wall size screen. "The only ones identifiable. There is inconclusive evidence that she had at least one accomplice. Fire and water damage prevented the recovery of additional samples. Also, the report suggests that it was not her first visit to Sector 13. Some of these prints recovered from the stasis hall go back at least a month."

"I suppose this explains the lack of videotape. We know she can gimmick cameras."

"Indeed, sir. However, Mr. Xanatos, this new information raises as many questions as it answers. Why was Miss Angela in Sector 13? Who did she bring with her? And why did she liberate the assets that are missing?"

David stroked his beard absently, mulling the probabilities of various scenarios. "All good questions. I suppose it could be a coincidence. Her being down there and the break-in. I know that 's the first thing that Goliath's going to say when he finds out. We need more evidence. Tell the boys in Security they're getting overtime this week. I want them to go over all the logs, all the tapes of the entire building for the last month. I want a report detailing Angela's comings and goings. And Owen," he added as he flipped through the remainder of Dr. Wang's report, "let's keep a close watch on our wandering gargoyle. At least until this is cleared up."

* * * * *

Matt pulled up to the gates of Destine Manor and pressed the intercom button. Elisa sat in the passenger seat of the classic red and white Fairlane comparing interview notes. Early evening was giving way to sunset and she'd flipped open the glove box to provide illumination.

An unfamiliar female voice greeted them and Bluestone identified himself. A moment later the gates swung open. The Fairlane crawled forward up the drive. The oppressively thick trees gave way to a sweeping expanse of lawn and severely pruned shrubs. Closer to the house, there were signs that the landscape was undergoing a change. Newly planted roses anchored one end of a strolling garden. A large marble fountain of Renaissance vintage stood at the center. Piles of paving stones, pebbles and still more plants in nursery pots indicated the project was somewhere in the half completed stage.

"I'll bet that was Andrea's idea," Elisa commented as she surveyed what was soon to be a tasteful riot of color. "I can't imagine Demona doing something like that on her own."

"Maybe you can use that as a way to work up to the real questions," Matt replied. "Doing some re-landscaping, Demona? Oh by the way, did you break into half a dozen of your competitors, just for kicks?"

Elisa shot her partner a sour glance. "Not funny, Bluestone."

He had no chance to reply. Andrea Calhoun appeared from the far end of the garden in progress. She was clad in denim jeans instead of her customary canvas painter's pants. As she approached she stripped her hands bare of leather gloves. "Good evening, Elisa. Detective Bluestone. Won't you come in?"

"Thanks, Andrea." Elisa allowed the painter to escort them into the foreboding interior of Destine Manor. The detective pursed her lips in surprise as she surveyed the entryway and the living room beyond. Before, she had considered the décor to be severe to the point of harsh. But Andrea's sense of whimsy had begun to show its influence. While the rooms were still formal in tone, lighter touches here and there, bright throw pillows and surprising accent pieces now caught the observer off guard, making the rooms less of a showpiece and more of a real home. "I like what you've done with the place."

The artist blushed. "Really? Thanks. I wanted to create a more relaxing environment for Dominique. She works so hard. And environment really does influence mood."

"You could make a killing in interior design if you ever wanted to branch out," Matt added. "By the way, where is the lady of the manor tonight?"

"Dominique had to work late tonight." Andrea indicated her work gloves. "Come on into the kitchen while I clean up. We can talk in there."

The trio entered the kitchen. Elisa noted a black and white plastic cat clock with absurd eyes and swinging tail she was sure had no place in the previous kitchen of Ms. Destine. A petite woman with a waist length blonde ponytail and sharply angled cheekbones was pouring tea into china cups. She smiled. "You must be Detectives Bluestone and Maza." She looked over at Andrea for approval. "It was okay that I let them in?"

"Fine, Jeannie." Andrea went to the sink and began to wash up. Over her shoulder she continued, "Elisa is a friend of the family and Detective Bluestone is her partner. Jeannie is our houseguest," Andrea added as she reached for a towel and dried her hands. "I take it this is official and not clan business, Elisa."

Elisa gave the painter an uncomfortable look. "Yeah, it is. Has Demona been working a lot of late nights over the last six months?"

Andrea shrugged. "A few. She's been getting ready for a series of overseas meetings both for Nightstone and with the Gargoyle Council."

Elisa frowned at the mention of the council.

"Would one of those late nights been Tuesday?" Matt chimed in when Elisa failed to ask the logical follow up.

It was Andrea's turn to look uncomfortable. "No, Tuesday night Dominique was definitely here from sundown on."

"Can you verify that Ms. –" Matt paused realizing he didn't know the second blonde - and very pretty - woman's surname.

Jeannie, belatedly realizing that Matt was addressing her, fumbled the teacup she was setting before Andrea. "Oh! You mean me. Normally people just call me Jeannie. Yes. Ms. Destine was here. I remember she was rather tense and went straight to her office right after dinner. She barely touched her chicken salad."

Matt dragged his thoughts back to the investigation and away from Jeannie's stunning green eyes. "Back to Nightstone?"

"No, Detective Bluestone," Andrea clarified. "Dominique has an office here. She often brings work home with her."

"I see." Elisa commented. She looked at the two women. They were both suddenly tense. "I guess that's it for now. We can show ourselves out."

"That's it?" Andrea said sharply. "You needed an alibi for Dominique? Why?"

Elisa shrugged. "We really can't get into the specifics, but her name came up in the course of an ongoing investigation."

"She was a suspect?"

Elisa realized she felt like a heel. "Not a serious one. But we have to do our job. Determining Demona's whereabouts was part of it."

"Does she need an attorney?"

Elisa exchanged a glance with Matt. "Can you swear that she was here Tuesday night between 10:00 and midnight?"

Both women nodded. Andrea added, "I came home late, around 8:00 p.m. Domi and I had a fight. She went to her office. I went upstairs, meditated, tried to calm down. Later around 10:30, she came upstairs and we spent the rest of the night making up."

Matt flipped his notebook closed. "We're good then."

"Will you tell her?" Andrea asked. She was anxious about upsetting her gargoyle lover and Elisa thought she could appreciate the woman's dilemma. How many times had she covered for Goliath and the others and shielded them from the guilt others were too ready to lay at their feet?

"No. There's no reason," Elisa assured. "Just forget we were here." She started to exit, and got as far as the hallway before turning and calling over her shoulder. "Are you coming, Matt?"

Matt Bluestone tried to think of one more question to ask that pertained to the case, realized he couldn't and shut his notebook. "Thanks again for your time," he said politely. When he caught up with Elisa, waiting in the entryway, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

* * * * *

Lexington curled on the couch in the recreation room, hunched over his laptop computer. The television was tuned to a baseball game and Bronx was watching with rapped attention as the Yankees pounded on the Cardinals. Lexington ignored both the players on the screen and the growling, howling gargoyle beast who seemed to disagree with the umpire's latest call. He should have been sitting perched in an oak tree listening to the New York Philharmonic play Mozart at the concert in the park with Delilah and the others, but he'd begged off complaining of a headache. "I think it's all this changing weather. Hot. Stormy. Hot again. I wish it'd just make up its mind, I think it's affecting my implants."

Naturally, Delilah wanted to stay with him, but Lexington knew she'd been looking forward to the outdoor performance and insisted that she go. He had kissed her on the nose and promised to catch up as soon as he felt able, then made a big production of taking the special pain pills formulated by Xanatos's doctors for just such occasions and drinking an entire glass of water down to the bottom as his mate looked on with concern.

Now his stomach ached from the unnecessary medication. He would have rather been honest with Delilah, but Angela had sworn him to secrecy. Until they had proof it would be better to keep the rest of the clan out of it.

Click. Click. Click. "Okay. I'm in." It had taken three nights of intensive labor, the minutes at his keyboard stolen away from other activities to develop the worms. Xanatos's security was tight, but there was always a back door if you looked in the right places. The megalithic operating system, recently upgraded but not yet fully patched, was usually a good place to start.

The delivery was trickier. Lexington consulted the latest employee directory. Excellent. Two temps were working in the travel office this week. He hacked into the maintenance division and checked the outgoing mail. Perfect. A memo detailing lunch room policies.

Click. Click. Click. The worm embedded neatly into the document. He replaced the memo back in the system.

Next step. No one could resist a good office spam. Lexington hijacked an email address from personnel and attached a long story involving two construction workers, a bar and a parrot. There was also an amusing little animation that wasn't entirely innocent. The header said "From the Office of D.F. Perkins – URGENT". He sent it company wide.

Singly the two emails meant nothing. But once they were both open he would have an entry (he hoped) into the files of Sector 13. Lexington logged off the computer. If he hurried he could catch the second half of the concert. Bronx barely noticed as he slipped from the room and rushed to catch up with the rest of the clan.

* * * * *

"In other news tonight, it's the latest case of east coast meets west as Broadway goes to Hollywood. No, we're not talking about a new musical, we're talking about a _gargoyle_ named Broadway who since winging his way to Los Angeles a week ago has seemingly taken the city _and_ the entertainment industry by storm."

Jezebella looked up from her laptop computer, ears twitching, and grabbed for the remote to bring up the volume on the small television.

"_Entertainment Tonight_ caught up with the big blue sensation last night outside the Getty Center as he attended the Diversity Awards, and got his thoughts on what it feels like to be joining his wife, Angela, on the fast track to stardom."

The camera cut away to a red carpet walkway lined with photographers and reporters doing their best to capture a few moments of time from any number of well-dressed celebrities. Jezebella's brow furrowed as she spotted her sister's mate, making his way toward the entrance arm-in-arm with a lavishly attired Fox Xanatos.

"I'm having a great time out here," he commented. "Everyone's so friendly. I just wish Angela could be here with me. Hey, if this will be on TV can I say 'hi' to everyone back home?" He took hold of the microphone, not waiting for the correspondent to answer. "Hello, everyone in New York!" he said, waving. "Especially you, Angela," he added, hanging back even as Fox smiled and did her best to move him along. "I love you, babe!" 

The remote control flew across the room, bouncing off the wall and clattering to the floor as Jezebella saw red. 

"The bow tie just makes him look like a fat Chipendale's dancer if you ask me." 

Jezebella looked up sharply to find Candy standing across the table from her. "What do _you_ want?" she asked. 

The gargoyle's tone was cold and harsh, but Candy didn't flinch. "Newspaper delivery," she replied, tossing the copy she carried onto the table so the headline faced Jezebella. "Extra, extra, read all about it. Media, gargoyle to kiss P.I.T. artist's ass."

Jezebella scowled and reached for the paper. What Candy had delivered was in fact just the Arts & Entertainment section of the _Times_, and the banner headline actually read "Gargoyle, artist to open exhibit at Met."

Candy stuck her thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans. "You owe me now," she stated. "Good thing I intercepted that before little Danny boy went looking to read the comics page."

"This event happens in just two nights," Jezebella stated, skimming the article. "She'll be alone… away from the clan," she mused absently. "Perfect."

"You're welcome," Candy muttered.

Jezebella's lips had curled into a feral grin by the time she refocused her attention on the halfling woman. "Have you finished preparing my sister's temporary lodgings?" she demanded.

Candy nodded. "Everything is all set." 

"Excellent. Then there's no sense in letting this opportunity escape."

The blonde woman raised an eyebrow. "I thought you still needed time to, um, rehearse."

Jezebella glanced at the newspaper again, eyes narrowing as a smiling Angela stared back at her from the file photograph below the headline. "I've waited long enough," she replied. "It's time I reclaim what is mine."

Candy nodded. "Just one problem. That kid still thinks you're _her_. When we bring her back here, he…"

"…will be helping us," Jezebella stated. The smile on her face turned a shade more wicked as saw the confusion play across Candy's vaguely elfish features. "Don't worry. I will take care of Danny," she said, "and once I'm done, he'll be as eager as you are to see her locked up in that dreary little cell."

"If you say so, Jez." Candy's tone was skeptical, but the far away look in the gargoyle's eyes warned her not to push the issue. "I'll let the Doc and Jake know."

"Yes," Jezebella replied. "You do that." The lavender-skinned gargoyle rose from her chair, snatching up the newspaper in her talons as she stood. "It's time Danny and I had a little chat about my wicked, no-good sister." 

* * * * *

Jezebella passed quickly through the dark but familiar corridors, wondering what kind of tale she could spin that would not only keep young Danny on her side but convince him to assist with the abduction of her sister, as well. Candy and Jake and the others could manage fine without him, true, but there was just something she found irresistible about the thought of turning Angela's little pet halfling against her. It would be only the first in many turnabouts to come for her dear sweet beloved sister.

Angela, her jealous, hateful, spiteful sister. It had now been over five years since their parting. Jezebella closed her eyes, struggling to fight back the rush of emotions that roiled inside her. How many times in her nightmares had she relived those final moments when she had last lain eyes upon her sister in the flesh? 

The first betrayal had been bad enough. The clan had been restored to their ancestral home of Castle Wyvern, but she had not been with them. Angela had made sure of that, spinning a clever web of accusations that had finally convinced the others that her newly arrived twin sister had been in league with Demona the entire time. She had been banished from the clan, and ordered never to dare venture near the castle under penalty of death. To add the final insult, Angela had been the one permitted to escort her to the edge of Manhattan Island. 

"I warned you not to interfere, sister. You should have listened or it wouldn't have had to come to this," Angela had calmly explained as she undid the ropes that bound Jezebella's hands. "Go home, Jezebella. Broadway is _mine_ now, but perhaps our rookery brothers will welcome you back."

Only she had not been able to return home. She had arrived in Manhattan by boat and had no one left to turn to for help in finding her way back across the sea. So she had done the next best thing she could think of, and begun searching for Demona. With the Quarrymen suddenly everywhere, though, she was living on borrowed time. It hadn't even been a week since her banishment had begun that she'd been spotted. A lone gargoyle with no safe haven to retreat to, she was the perfect target. There had been a brief chase ending in a blind alley, that much she could remember. Then the net wrapped around her, pinning her wings and rendering her helpless on the ground. She trembled as the men approached, their charged hammers humming. She could see only their eyes, but she could tell they were leering beneath their hoods. 

"What do you say, boys?" the group's leader asked. "Shall we have a little fun with this monster?"

Jezebella struggled futilely against her bonds, but within seconds the half dozen Quarrymen were upon her. On each side, someone pinned her wrists, while another placed his heavy boot roughly on her neck. She gasped for air, writhing desperately in a bid to escape, but a quick shock from one of the hammers momentarily stilled her. Gloved hands groped and pawed, tugging at her clothing, but all she could do was pant helplessly. With glowing, panicked eyes, she scanned the dead end alley for someone - anyone - who could help her.

It was then that she had spotted her. Angela, perched on the edge of the brickwork above, moonlight reflecting off her dark sable tresses as she watched the scene unfolding below.

Jezebella summoned a gasping breath. "Sister! Please, help me!"

Angela stood up, spreading her wings, and said not a word as she launched herself into the air. She only chuckled, wicked and low, as she banked and glided away. Jezebella's eyes went wide in disbelief. "No! Please, no!"

A sharp kick and another shock from another Quarryhammer silenced her for good, but in the numbness that followed as she watched her sister's silhouetted form fading into the distance, she barely felt the pain. As the tears welled, she closed her eyes and embraced the darkness, waiting for it to claim her.

The next sensation she could remember was one of warmth and weightlessness. There was no pain, no sound, no motion… and no light until she at last forced open her eyes. That mere effort alone rendered her all but exhausted, yet it was enough to forestall the sense of panic that threatened to overwhelm her at finding herself unable to feel her extremities or twitch so much as a talon tip. The thick, bluish liquid that enveloped her blurred her vision, but gradually she became aware of her surroundings. A mask not unlike a scuba diver's covering her mouth and nose, allowing her to breath. A myriad of tubes and wires surrounding her in the incubation tube. Beyond its plexiglass walls, a medical laboratory full of diagnostic equipment. And standing just off to the side, watching her, a brown-haired man and a dark-haired woman, both dressed in white. 

She wouldn't learn her saviors' names that night, or the night after. Indeed, it was many countless nights more spent drifting in and out of consciousness before she had finally recovered enough from her ordeal to be released back into the world of gravity and air. Doctor Sevarius had been right there at her side during that moment of rebirth, steadying her with gentle words and a supportive arm as she at last placed her feet on solid ground again. And he had remained by her side throughout the long period of rehabilitation that had followed. 

Jezebella opened her eyes, blinking as she brought her thoughts back to the present. She rubbed at her brow ridges, sighing as she felt the tiny throbbing pain growing again deep within her sinuses. The frequent migraine headaches were just one of many lingering effects of her near-death ordeal and recovery that she had been forced to learn to live with. She would see Dr. Sevarius later, after she spoke with Danny, and he would give her another pill to help make the pain go away, at least for a little while. There was no pill, though, that could fix the other ills she suffered as result of her sister's cruel betrayal in abandoning her to the Quarrymen. The memory loss… the recurring nightmares… the inability to ever have an egg of her own. Angela would soon pay for each and every one of those things. 

Jezebella's lips curled into a wicked smile, the headache all but forgotten as she reached the door to Danny's room. She would tell him the truth, she decided. At least for the most part. She'd have to change the names since he knew her as Angela, but that was but a small detail. Clearing her throat, she mustered a smile that was less telling and placed her knuckles to the doorframe. "Danny?" she called. "It's Angela. May I come in?"

* * * * *

Danny sat on the edge of the bed, doing his best to process the story the gargoyle sitting beside him had just finished relating. "Angela… man… I never would have thought… I mean… wow." He looked up at her. "How come you never told me about this before?" he asked quietly.

Jezebella shrugged and gave a sad smile. "You had enough problems of your own. I didn't want to burden you with mine, as well." She sniffed and quickly wiped at her eye, averting her gaze from the boy. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kept this a secret from you, I realize that now. It's just that… it's not real easy for me to talk about it." 

She looked up again as Danny's hand touched her own. "Angela, no… that's not how I meant it. You don't have to apologize." He quieted, searching for his next words as his gargoyle friend regarded him curiously with her dark, glistening eyes. "I don't have any brothers or sisters," he said at last, "but I think I can understand where you're coming from, Angela." His eyes darkened a shade. "It really sucks when you find out your own family doesn't want anything to do with you." 

Jezebella nodded mutely, genuine emotion slowly replacing the resigned but exaggerated sadness she had been feigning for the boy's benefit. During the long initial phase of her recovery, sealed away from all contact in the incubation tube, she had remained in a state of denial. Despite the vividness of the memories, she had convinced herself that she must have just been seeing things - that Angela couldn't possibly have just glided off, leaving her to suffer a cruel and certain death. Only once she had been released and begun to question Doctor Sevarius about what had happened to bring her into his care had the horrible truth finally sunk in. "I caught a glimpse of her gliding away as I came outside to investigate the commotion," he had said. "She didn't lift a talon to aid you. So sad, really. I thought gargoyle clans were tighter knit than that."

"… but at least we've got each other now."

Jezebella blinked and hastily cleared another tear from her eye. "I'm sorry, Danny. What was that?" Her voice was husky.

The teenage halfling squeezed his friend's hand gently, mindful of her talons, and manage a small smile. "I said, we've got each other now, Angela, even if our families don't want us."

"Yes." Jezebella pushed the dark memories back down inside for the moment, and summoned a gentle smile of her own. "We have each other… and maybe we can help each other, too."

Danny's smile grew broader as the gargoyle shifted a few inches closer. "What do you mean, Angela?" he asked, the hair on the back of his neck pricking as she pressed her leg against his.

Jezebella placed her other hand atop the one Danny already held and leaned in conspiratorially. "My clan may no longer care about me, but I still care about them. I can't let my sister's lies continue to go unchallenged. I _have_ to let them know the truth, even if it means I will never be welcome again, otherwise no one will ever be safe from her." She lowered her voice until she was speaking in nearly a whisper. "I have a plan, but I need your help, Danny."

"That cell in the basement," he muttered, eyes widening in realization. "It's for her, isn't it?"

Jezebella edged back slightly, but nodded. "Yes. The Doctor has developed a powerful truth serum," she explained quickly, amazed herself at how easily the well-rehearsed lie rolled from her tongue. "My plan is to capture her and let him get a confession on tape to show the clan, while I take her place in the meanwhile so they don't get suspicious. But how did you know about…"

"I overheard Candy talking to Jake," Danny replied, shrugging. "She's got a big mouth."

The lavender-skinned gargoyle chuckled. "That she does." Jezebella pressed herself closer to the boy. "So what do you think? Will you help me?"

"I think after what she did to you, she's getting off pretty damn easy." He smirked good-naturedly. "But yeah, Angela. I'll help you."

Jezebella's grin spread from ear to pointed ear. "I knew I could count on you, Danny."

* * * * *

"Three, two, one… and finish with a hug. I do declare, that girl's got Oscar potential if I ever saw it." Dr. Sevarius tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair, watching the grainy black and white feed on the computer monitor for a few more seconds. Below the jerky image displaying a Jezebella's eye view of the boy halfing, a small array of digitized instrumentation displayed heart rate, blood pressure, breath rate, and a variety of other vital statistics.

"It's too bad there's no audio," Dr. Ling quipped. "If we had the sound to go with this moving moment, I might be in tears right now." 

"An unfortunate limitation of the implant," Sevarius replied. Tapping the _escape_ key on his keyboard, he exited the program and turned his full attention to his female colleague. "Still, I must say I'm quite pleased with my first little foray into the world of cybernetics. I always knew those files I liberated from Maddox Technologies on my way out would come in handy some day."

"I just hope your clone isn't getting too attached to _my_ halfling," Dr. Ling replied. "Our deal still stands. I got her the files she needed on Xanatos' pet gargoyles. Jezebella had better live up to her end of the bargain."

"You surprise me, Doctor. You should have more confidence in your work." He smiled smugly. "You and I have taught young Jessie everything she knows. She trusts us. She will keep her agreement."

"She trusts _you_," Dr. Ling replied. "Serves me right for not catching on sooner that those first discussions we had over lunch were more than just 'hypothetical.' You use _my_ memory implantation techniques to cast yourself as the benevolent father figure, and I get stuck playing second fiddle. How fair was that?" She crossed her arms. "Another two weeks in the incubation tube - that's all I would have needed - and she'd be giving me Mother's Day cards instead of attitude."

"And another six months and we could have given her childhood memories of _Sesame Street_, trips to the zoo, and selling her first box of Girl Scout cookies. We've been through this before, Doctor," Sevarius chided. "With better investment strategies, we might have _both_ had the luxury of more time." 

Sevarius paused to reflect. In the course of his employment with Nightstone and subsequently Maddox Technologies, he had managed to divert a very comfortable cushion of funds into his private accounts. Still, it had been an aggressive portfolio loaded with tech stocks and booming dot-coms that had allowed him to leverage his money well enough to be able to pursue the pet project that had long been on the back burner. That little sample of the girl's DNA, collected at Loch Ness, had sat in cold storage for over three years, right alongside the remaining samples from the girl's biological parents. He had been determined this time to get all the details right, including the coloration. While the clones he had created for Thailog had been a rush job, Jezebella had been a labor of love and patience. Her DNA sequences were checked, re-checked, and checked again against the original model, and recompiled when necessary using the parent material. The painstaking work had taken him just under a year to complete, but the result had been a single-cell embryo with a genetic profile exactly identical to one Miss Angela Brigitte Destine.

He had met Dr. Ling quite by chance. They had shared the same stock broker and, as it turned out, the same impatiently aggressive approach to playing the market. They'd had lunch and ended up talking shop, and her ideas had intrigued him. Back in the lab, Jezebella was growing at the cautiously accelerated rate of about a year a week inside her specially built incubation tube, and it was getting near time to begin her programming. While with all his experience the genetics had become almost second nature, he had come to realize that the behavioral aspects of his cloning research had been woefully neglected. Already, he had been searching for an alternative to the brute force implantation techniques that had given Thailog his winning personality, but since his first clone had insisted that the programming of the others remain simple, he had done little at the time towards pursuing new methods. Jezebella, though, would be different. She would be perfect, his ultimate achievement in cloning, physically identical to her genetic parent and sister in every way. He wanted her personality to be a spot-on match, as well… with but a few small improvements and modifications. Her programming, therefore, had demanded a fresh approach.

"Behavioral modification through selective memory implantation," Sevarius mused aloud. "A fully developed personality, equivalent to that of a young adult, created in a mere six months. It's quite impressive, actually, Lilith."

Dr. Ling gave a smug smile. "Yes. But just think what we could have accomplished with her before the money ran out if you had brought me on board sooner, instead of trying to do it all by yourself." She glanced out the office window, into the sprawling laboratory that lay beyond, and Sevarius followed her gaze to the now-empty incubation tube where, just shortly before Christmas, he had first introduced her to the nearly mature clone.

"Dr. Lilith Ling, meet Jezebella," he had said.

"A gargoyle," she had replied. "You didn't tell me she was a gargoyle. This may prove even more interesting than I had anticipated."

Eager to begin the first live trial of her ideas, Dr. Ling had gotten to work immediately. What followed for Jezebella had been an intensive program of mental conditioning and memory imprinting, supplemented with regular awakenings from stasis to further blur the lines between programmed illusion and real world reality. In retrospect, Dr. Ling's methods had been pure genius. For the first three months, Jezebella had remained in the incubation chamber as the initial round of memories were programmed. Dr. Ling had even reviewed the script he had composed and suggested subtle improvements. It had been her idea to include an appearance of Angela in the scenario where Jezebella sustained the severe "injuries" that had placed her into his care. The injuries had also provided the context to begin awakening Jezebella to the real world. Dr. Ling had insisted she be allowed to drift in and out of consciousness while still confined to the incubation tube. "She'll feel confused and helpless," she had explained, "and that will leave her mind more amenable to suggestion. Plus it will allow her to integrate _us_ into her reality _before_ we put ourselves in range of those fangs and talons."

Sevarius had to admit, although Dr. Ling's methods were unorthodox, they proved to be quite effective. She had even written Jezebella's release from the incubation chamber into the course of her programming, allowing the girl to experience that monumental event for real. Jezebella's education had then continued by way of the two-way implant Dr. Ling had convinced him to install months earlier. Three more years of compressed memories were programmed over the course of the next two months, until Jezebella had completed her rehabilitation and been brought fully into her role as the newest member of his adopted family. That had been the end of Phase One of her programming, and it should have marked the beginning of Phase Two. But fate and the stock market, both so kind to them so far, had decided then to turn on them.

"Don't get me wrong, Anton," Dr. Ling continued. "Your darling little gargoyle clone is quite an achievement. She's certainly a much more impressive success story than that stupid sheep ever was. Still, it's not the body that interest me, Anton. It's the mind. And from where I'm standing, what we've managed to create with her only represents a small fraction of what my techniques, when applied correctly, could potentially do."

"Yes," Sevarius replied, returning his attention to the present. He smiled oddly, dismissing the brief vision of cross-mutating his former stock broker into an armadillo, and turned back to his computer to pull up a spreadsheet. "Making a gargoyle into an expert cat burglar is one thing," he said, "but making a halfling into the perfect soldier… now that's a horse of a different color. Ben Franklin green, to be exact."

Dr. Ling stepped in behind him, peering over his shoulder at the columns of numbers. "You're taking advance orders already?" she asked. "Is that wise? We haven't even secured the test subjects yet."

"You worry too much, Lilith. Jezebella will provide, just as she always has. Raiding one's competitors, though, can only take one so far. That's why, while you've been busy assisting Jezebella with her research, I've been busy soliciting donations from interested parties. After all, one million dollars American, paid in advance, is but a small, small price to pay for the privilege of being allowed to bid on the finished product." He clicked the mouse, bringing up a new screen, and smiled as he reviewed the totals. "You'll be able to quit your day job soon, my dear, and go to work full time on your research." 

"I hope you realize it could take some time." The Asian woman stepped away, turning her gaze back out again to the unoccupied lab space as she crossed her arms. "Jezebella was a blank slate," she said, a worried look flitting across her delicate features. "The initial programming was fairly easy, but I never had the chance to perform Phase Two of the experiment with her."

Sevarius rose from his chair. "You mean re-programming, to change existing memories and alter established behaviors?" He smiled as he slid up beside his partner and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Actually, I'd say that's just as well. I rather like her as she is. She's so much more… dynamic than her dear twin sister."

"More dynamic. Yeah… among other things." She shrugged. "Call her kinks and quirks whatever you want. She's your toy now." She eyed the examination table that waited across the room, complete with its heavy restraining straps, and her eyes narrowed contemplatively. "I'm ready to begin the new research. The sooner I have my hands on the halfling boy, the sooner I can get to work."

* * * * *

Elisa sat at the eye of a storm, ignoring the maelstrom of the early evening bullpen. Day shift detectives hurried through their paperwork as their nighttime counterparts waded in to the sea of victims and perps. She tried to pay no mind as an elderly woman described a subway purse snatching to Detective Halloran. It wasn't her case, yet guilt needled her all the same.

Interview notes, theft reports, case logs from the initial detectives assigned prior to the point the break-ins were connected, and a weeks worth of her own case notes lay spread out on the desk in rough stacks. Elisa toyed with a pen as she compared statements from research managers at each of the crime scenes. The phrases "industrial espionage" and "sabotage" surfaced in five of seven of the reports. The other two witnesses had no opinion other than their equipment was "expensive" and "somewhat difficult to obtain". One manager had mentioned it had taken the lab "two years to cut through the government red tape to obtain permits".

She jotted the phrases down on a legal pad along with the comment "extra-legal". All of the labs had been involved in genetic research in some form. Two had grants to study cloning. A third was involved in DNA tracing. New Trends Laboratories, the first firm to be hit, worked strictly with agricultural commodities. They'd pioneered work infusing animal genetic material into plants like corn and barley to produce "super foods".

The science involved made Elisa's head spin. Most of the companies were up against strict timetables as they worked to let scientific genies out of the bottles before Congress imposed further regulatory statues or made their work illegal entirely. The pharmaceutical labs seemed to feel special pressure and one employee had raised the notion of "government conspiracy". Elisa made another note under Victim – Motive Theories.

She yawned and stretched, watching as Halloran escorted his witness out of the Bullpen. Elisa laid even money odds that Dick would pick up the old woman's cab fare. Ten or fifteen bucks would mean a lot to someone who had just lost a month's worth of grocery money.

A manila folder smacked down in the middle of her work startling Elisa out of her reverie. She looked up to see Matt staring down at her grim-faced.

"Bad news?"

Matt ran a hand through short-cropped auburn hair. "Depends on your perspective. I re-interviewed our witness, O'Neal. He's had a week for his concussion to heal and to mull things over. I took a sketch pad with me."

Elisa nodded slowly, understanding her partner's reluctance to bring in a department sketch artist. "Yeah. And?"

"He remembered details, Elisa. Lots more details. Open the folder."

Slowly, reluctantly, Elisa flipped the folder open. "Oh no," she said dully.

Angela, in full battlefield fury snarled back at her.

Elisa sat for a full thirty seconds before scraping her chair roughly away from the desk and stalking out of the bullpen. Matt only hesitated a second. He gathered up his notes and hers and followed. "Elisa, wait."

"She has no motive," his partner stated flatly.

The hallway was absent of its usual quotient of bored cops and aggrieved citizens. Matt took the opportunity. He grabbed Elisa by the elbow and shoved her towards one of the small offices set aside for Community Relations volunteers. "That might not be true."

Elisa turned abruptly and stared up at him, her dark hair moving in a raven wave. Bluestone twisted the doorknob, found it unlocked and herded his partner in. He flipped on the light and locked the door behind them.

"What are you talking about, Matt?" Elisa's tone was harsh, suspicious.

Bluestone laid out his facts. "She's the only one with an unconfirmed alibi. No one else can vouch for her whereabouts the night of the Midtown Medical break in."

"She said she was locked in her workroom in a deep trance."

Matt sat down on one of the thinly padded chairs, the stack of files in his lap. He looked up at his partner and elaborated. "No one saw her go in. And according to Brooklyn she wasn't on her perch at sun up."

"That's circumstantial and you know it," Elisa protested.

"There's the picture. O'Neal identified her."

Elisa shrugged. She waved her hand dismissively. "Angela's been all over the newspapers and T.V. O'Neal's had a head injury. He could have confabulated Angela into his memory."

Matt had to give her that one. "True," he acknowledged. "But that doesn't explain the Nightstone connection to the break-ins."

Elisa's dark eyes narrowed dangerously. "There is no Nightstone connection and even if there was - what would that have to do with Angela?"

"Angela wouldn't help her mother if Demona made it sound important enough?"

Elisa opened her mouth to protest but didn't. She chewed the uncomfortable thought in silence and looked slightly ill.

Matt continued. "Business record search came back on the companies hit. Not one of them is owned by Nightstone."

"So Demona's in the clear," Elisa said even as she waited for Matt to drop his bombshell.

"Not necessarily. All those scientists crying 'industrial espionage' got me thinking. So, I dug into their backgrounds. Or at least Corporate Forensics did. Of the companies hit, only Forward Research is a private concern, owned and operated by a limited partnership. The others are all subsidiaries or shell corporations."

"Ultimately owned by?"

"Cyberbiotics, Xanatos Enterprises and Con-Agra."

Elisa looked up. She noted without interest the posters promoting D.A.R.E. and Community Watch. "And why do you think Nightstone is at the root of all this?"

Matt shrugged. "Bottom line, money. Every one of the companies involved is at a critical juncture in their research and development process. The loss of a couple of months could make the difference between patents and going belly up. It fits, Elisa. According to my sources, Nightstone is just a few months away from solving the aging clone problem. The other companies are all working on aspects of the same problem. If Nightstone gets there first-"

"All those other companies will have to go to them," Elisa finished.

Bluestone smiled smugly. "Bingo. Licenses, rights, we're talking billions of dollars here."

"But why? Why would Angela commit crimes to help Demona?"

"Family loyalty? Maybe she owed Demona and this is payback. Or maybe Demona played on her sympathies and Angela's a dupe. We won't know until we talk to her."

Elisa bowed her head and stared at beige tile, already starting to show signs of wear, at her feet. "Yeah. You're right. We can't bring her in though, the media will have a heyday."

"We'll go to Captain Chavez. She can set something up."

Elisa nodded at last, sick at heart. "How am I going to break this to Goliath?"

* * * * *

"That one's easy. Delilah. She's Lexington's mate, and joined the clan three months ago. Before that, she lived with Talon's clan in the Labyrinth. She's the only female clone that Thailog created. Her parents are the human woman Elisa Maza and the gargoyle Demona." Jezebella paused, cocking her head thoughtfully. "Which I suppose would make her my half-sister."

Danny examined the back of the homemade photo flashcard. As bizarre as the facts were that his gargoyle friend had just rattled off, every one of them was correct according to the list he found printed there in her neat, precise handwriting. "Right again, Angela," he said. He turned the card around again to look at the white-haired gargoyle pictured on the front. "A clone with two moms, huh? Wow. And I thought some of _my_ relatives were weird."

Jezebella chuckled amiably and pulled her tail up around her crossed legs. "Hurry up and gimme the next one, Danny. I'm on a roll." She bounced impatiently, shaking the bed upon which they both sat, and Danny smirked as he shuffled the remaining flashcards. Turning Angela's final review into a game had been his idea, a way to help her unwind a little and overcome the last-minute jitters he could tell she was feeling about seeing her home again. She had been spent the previous night cramming, poring studiously through the files and color photos that Dr. Sevarius had received from Dr. Ling and relayed on to her. She had refused to take a break, even to eat, and dawn had found her short-tempered and exhausted. 

Danny wanted tonight to be different, for it would likely be their last night together for a while. Angela would be returning to her home, and even though he knew he would miss having her as a constant companion, he was happy for her all the same and he was determined to do everything he could to help her in her quest to reveal the truth about her conniving twin sister. So while she slept, he had gone through the files himself, taking the photos and pairing them with the index cards she had been using to record her notes. 

The faint scent of rubber cement still hung in the air in the tiny room that, thanks to the female gargoyle's friendship, he now called his own. "Okay, Angela," Danny said as he picked another card at random, "who's this?"

Jezebella leaned forward, squinting at the photo of a jade-green, kimono-clad gargoyle with jet black hair. Even with her fragmented memories, it had been a relatively easy task to re-familiarize herself with the original members of the clan. Goliath was her father; Demona, her mother; she still had some vague recollections of Hudson, Broadway, Brooklyn, Lexington, and Bronx; and her sister Angela, of course, she would never forget. Through new matings and alliances, though, the clan had grown quite a bit in her absence, resulting in a number of totally new faces to learn. Even her mother had taken a new companion according to the files Dr. Ling had provided: the human woman Andrea Calhoun, the artist featured in the _Times_ article alongside Angela. Reviewing that file in particular had been both enlightening and unsettling. Learning that her mother had recently come out as a lesbian had been shocking enough. What had really perturbed her, though, was discovering that Demona, whom according to Angela's groundless accusations she had conspired with to commit great evil, was now on good terms with the clan, her past misdeeds seemingly forgiven. Jezebella, though, had been forgotten, not even earning so much as a footnote in the vast files Xanatos had compiled on the clan that shared his home. It only confirmed what she had suspected all along. Angela's spiteful influence had reached to all levels to ensure there would never be a place at Castle Wyvern for her. 

"Angela?" Danny asked, "Do you want a hint?"

Jezebella blinked and shook her head. "Sorry," she said, focusing once again on the photo the boy held. "I just got distracted for a moment. That's Sata," she replied at last, "Brooklyn's mate. She's originally from a clan in Ishimura, Japan. She's trained in _bushido_ and is skilled with the _katana _and several other traditional Japanese weapons."

The teenage halfling nodded. "Very good. And so then these two are-?" He held up a second card, the photo on this one showing a pair of younger gargoyles.

Jezebella smiled. She knew this one right away. "Graeme and Arianna, Brooklyn and Sata's children. They're fraternal twins, not identical like me and Angela. Graeme's favorite television show is something called _Super Samurai Armadillos_ while Arianna is a _Sailor Senshi_ fan.

Danny reviewed the notes on the back of the card and nodded. "Correct, except for one thing. Says here it's pronounced 'graham' like the cracker, not like 'grame' rhyming with 'tame'." 

"Graeme," Jezebella repeated, correcting the vowel sound from long to short. "Got it. Ugh. I wonder how Brooklyn came up with that name anyway."

"Who knows?" Danny shrugged. "Maybe he thought following the clan trend would just make them get picked on more at school. I mean, you wouldn't get much respect with a name like 'Long Island' or 'Queens'." 

He gave a quirky smile and, after a moment, Jezebella couldn't help but giggle. "Just give me the next one, silly." She shifted position slightly, running a hand absently along her leg and bringing a bit more thigh into view beneath the hem of the simple, sleeveless burgundy slip dress she wore. "After we finish my review," she said coyly, "you can help me get into costume."

Danny swallowed and his cheeks flushed red. "Whatever you want, Angela," he said, grinning. "Whatever you want."

* * * * *

"Captain wants to see you," Halloran said to Elisa as she entered the bullpen. He laid a finger aside his slightly crooked nose, a souvenir of his beat cop days when he'd taken a sock full of quarters to the face. "Better not keep her waiting. She's in a bit of a mood. If you take my meaning."

Elisa nodded, grim faced. "I saw the newspaper. 'Gargoyle Linked to Research Break Ins.' She's probably been on the phone with the Mayor. Thanks for the warning, Dick."

"Don't mention it." He turned away to answer a ringing telephone and Elisa unlocked her desk and removed her copies of the case files.

They'd run every lead. Talked to every source interviewed everybody they could think of, except the one person who stood squarely at the middle of the investigation. Now with the press leak there was no putting it off any longer. She approached the lion's den and knocked on the door. Matt was already inside standing stiff backed and tense.

Chavez echoed his pose. "It's about time you got here, Maza," she snapped peremptorily.

Elisa glanced at her watch. It was five minutes past the start of shift. She opened her mouth to protest and then shut it again off a warning glance from her partner.

"Status of your investigation?"

Elisa avoided Chavez's eyes focusing instead on a spider industriously spinning herself a web with a view of the city as Matt gave the report. "We have a suspect. However, said suspect is currently enjoying a great deal of media attention and is the subject of an intense political debate. It would be dangerous to this department and to the city if the suspect was brought into the station for an interview."

Out of the corner of her eye Elisa watched her partner relax a fraction. They'd spent half an hour working out the wording of their progress report. Free classes in 'Doublespeak as a Second Language', Matt had joked as they debated how best to present their findings, one of the perks of attending the F.B.I. Academy.

Chavez sat down, leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "So, it is one of your gargoyles. The one they call Angela. I was afraid of this."

"My gargoyles?" Elisa protested automatically.

Maria Chavez gave the pair of detectives a 'don't b.s.' me look. "Yes, your gargoyles. I know it. You know it and your partner knows it. So don't bother denying it." Chavez pulled a file out of her desk marked "Private and Confidential" and slapped it down on the desk. "Witness statements going back to the first gargoyle sightings. You always seem to be on the scene. I know you have a relationship with them, Elisa. That means you've got a conflict of interest."

"But-"

"I'm not removing you from the case, but I am stepping in. I'll take the lead during the interview with Ms. Angela."

Matt rubbed a palm against his temple. "When? And more importantly where? The press has been tipped and people are starting to watch the station. If we bring Angela here it will ignite a protest from both sides of the Gargoyles Rights debate."

"I'm aware of the consequences," Chavez said flatly. "Just as I'm aware that my going to the Eyrie building would raise its own set of questions."

"Captain, you have to understand, if it is Angela behind these break-ins something is seriously wrong with her. She could be dangerous."

"Matt!" Elisa protested. "Captain. I know it looks bad for her but it can't be Angela!"

The redheaded detective turned to his partner. "I'm sorry, Elisa, but it had to be said. If Angela's slipped a gear she could be as dangerous as her mother when she's confronted. Why not set up a meeting in neutral territory, where she'll be off her guard. Your brother's? The muscle would come in handy if things go sour."

"Derek? Your brother knows about these gargoyles too?"

Elisa nodded impatiently, so not willing to go there. "Yeah, a lot has happened to Derek since he left the force." She considered the idea for several seconds before replying. "All right. I'll set up the meet." Elisa withdrew a small note pad from the pocket of her bomber jacket. "I'll pick up Angela." She scratched out a rough map and jotted an address. "Matt will me you at the coffee shop on the corner." She tore the slip of paper off the pad and handed it to the Captain. "One more thing. Wear walking shoes. You'll need them where you're going."

* * * * *

"…but this just proves what we've known all along. These so-called 'gargoyles' are not cute and cuddly like the bleeding hearts at P.I.T. want you to believe. They're dangerous beasts that care nothing for our laws and values. Each and every one of them, an abomination of nature." The speaker paused for emphasis, scanning the disorganized and agitated crowd that surrounded him on the front steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art for signs that at least some of them were paying attention to the impromptu speech. Toward the back of the throng, where the sidewalk met the street, a group of college-age men and women joined the scene, hoisting their own pre-made protest signs. "Down With Intolerance," read one. "It's the Racism, Stupid," declared another. The bald-headed man smiled. The first response unit from P.I.T. had arrived. He brought the megaphone back to his lips and recommenced the verbal assault. "P.I.T. has put the liberal media in its back pocket. They live off the donations of their corporate sponsors, peddling the influence of the wealthy few to buy airtime for the purposes of brainwashing the average citizen. They trot out the most docile and most human-looking of these beasts, seeking to mislead us that these demons are just like you or me. They barrage us constantly with their images on our television screens, caring nothing for the young minds they are corrupting. They claim to be 'concerned citizens,' but in reality they are a public relations puppet, and their only 'concern' is that money continues to flow in, fast and uninterrupted, from the gullible masses."

Danny peered over the low parapet wall that surrounded the museum's roof. "Sheesh. What's up with that guy?" he asked.

Candy stared down into the crowd and shrugged. "I guess he's just pissed off. Only he can't quite figure out about what." 

"The exhibit opening today inside this museum - that this so-called 'art' - includes pornographic paintings of nude demons, on display in all their hideous glory. It's just another perverse attempt to ingratiate these monsters into our society, and further spread the moral bankruptcy that follows in their wake." He paused again, wincing as his megaphone gave a squeal of feedback, and moved another step higher for a better vantage point. "Our children can already turn on the television at any hour of the day and be indoctrinated into the sick cult of the gargoyle-huggers," he continued. "There's a big purple menace appearing on television nearly every day, my friends… and it's _not_ Barney!" 

"Gargoyles are better than Barney!" a new amplified voice retorted from the back of the crowd. Candy flicked her eyes back to the group that had arrived from P.I.T. and saw that one of their number now had her own megaphone out.

"And that's just the kind of response I'd expect from the group that the artist responsible for pimping this exhibit of smut is a member of," the bald man replied. "But I suppose you're all proud to call her one of your own!"

"Gargoyles are not the problem," the woman from P.I.T. replied. "Small minded humans are."

Candy made a face as the bald man with the megaphone continued to dialog with the heckler. "This guy's a rambling loon. He needs to pick an angle and stick with it. I can't tell if he's here to protest gargoyles or rant about porn. At least when I was with the Quarrymen we tried to make sure the speeches made sense… and our speakers were always warned to _never_ got into shouting matches with the counter-protesters."

"Why?" Danny asked. He continued to watch as the crowd grew more restless, the noise level rising as the two people with the megaphones competed for their attention.

"Because you lose your audience, that's why," Candy said, pointing to spot in the crowd where a shoving match had already started. Several of the sign-carrying P.I.T. members had begun wading through the throng, attempting to make their way closer the museum steps, but one had encountered unexpected resistance. Candy's squinted, then smiled. "Heh. I know that guy," she said, pointing to the large man who had blocked the path of the young, bespectacled P.I.T. crew member. "He was one of the first guys in my unit to be awarded a Silver Hammer." 

Danny watched curiously. He couldn't hear the words that were being exchanged over the ambient noise of the crowd, but it seemed like the bigger man had taken exception to the message on the P.I.T. member's sign. The placard bore a cartoon-like illustration, where a white hooded figure holding a lit torch was pictured next to a similar hooded figure clad in blue and hoisting a sledgehammer. Danny peered closer and was able to make out a portion of the caption. "…a proud tradition since 1865." He didn't get a chance to see more. The sign was twisted away from view as the former Quarryman made a grab for it.

"Woo yeah! Kick his ass, Max!" Candy leaned over the edge of the parapet, shouting gleefully at the top of her lungs as a punch was thrown and the brief tussle over the sign quickly morphed into an all-out brawl. The two men scuffling quickly became four, then eight, and so on as nearby members of the crowd chose up sides. "Yeah, baby!" Candy yelled. "Send those P.I.T. crybabies back home to mommy!" 

Danny could barely hear her over all the shouting and yelling that rose from below. "This is nuts," he muttered. He blinked as he watched the bald, mustached man go down. Pummeled from behind by a random assailant, he was cut off mid-rant and toppled from his spot on the steps, vanishing into the sea of bodies.

"Now that down there is what I call a party, kid," Candy declared. "Man! What I wouldn't give for a good Quarryman revival. This town needs more people willing to put those whiny gargoyle-lovers in their place and show those no-good freaks of nature what for!"

Danny edged away, an uncertain look playing across his features as Candy grinned maliciously and ground her fist against her palm. "Uh, yeah," he replied. "That's just what we need around here. More crazy people running around, looking for some 'freaks of nature' to beat up for kicks." He fingered the pointed tip of his ear as Candy glared at him. "Especially since we kind of resemble that remark ourselves. You know, in case it slipped your mind." 

Candy's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Listen up, junior," she growled, "I don't need any crap from you. I get enough abuse from your prissy little gargoyle friend. You may worship the ground she walks on, but just remember: if it wasn't for her and her kind coming along, we'd all still be one hundred percent human."

The halfling boy took a half step back, keeping himself just out of the woman's reach. He could feel the magical energies tingling inside him, and he fought to maintain control. "If you hate gargoyles so much," he questioned, "then how come you work for one?"

"I work for Sevarius. I only tolerate his pet gargoyle because she's going to help provide him with the keys to making us human again."

Danny's eyes widened. "He can do that?"

"I'm not holding _my_ breath on it, kid." Candy and Danny both turned, scowling, to find Jake standing in the open doorway of the roof access stairwell. "Come on you two," he said, beckoning with a wave of his hand. "Get your sorry asses in here before the news and police choppers show up. We've got a job to do, remember?"

* * *

"What took you so damn long, anyway?" Candy snapped irritably. She edged her way passed Jake to take the lead, putting some distance between herself and Danny as the trio of halflings made their way through the darkened hallways of the museum's uppermost level. "I was starting to wonder if you got yourself lost."

"Don't get your panties in a knot. I had to take a few detours, that's all. Security started freaking out just after I got inside. Sounded from the radio traffic like there was a big commotion going on out front."

Candy smiled. "Yeah, you could say, that. Some gargoyle-lovers had to come along and pick a fight. They just never learn."

"They weren't the ones who started it," Danny interjected.

The female halfling shot him a nasty look. "You remind me of someone I used to date, kid. Andy never knew when to shut the fuck up, either."

Jake cleared his throat. "Through that door," he said, pointing. Candy gave the boy one last piercing gaze, then followed where Jake led, creeping stealthily out onto the balcony that rimmed the entire perimeter of the soaring, three-story high gallery. Following Jake and Candy's lead, Danny dropped to his hands and knees, so as to remain hidden by the low railing that edged the narrow walkway. The balcony itself was dark, but it placed them at about the same level as the three large crystal chandeliers that hung suspended from the ornately detailed plaster ceiling, lighting the room below. 

Carefully, Candy raised her head up to peer over the railing. "Speak of the devil," she whispered low. "There's my ex now."

Jake peeked cautiously over the low wall, and Danny followed suit a moment later. He wasn't sure at first who Candy was talking about. Looking in the same direction that she was staring, he saw only a petite blonde woman in a stylish semi-formal black dress standing near a display of oil paintings as she conferred in an animated fashion with a small group of reporters.

"Look at her," Candy murmured. "She'd still be a nobody if it wasn't for her hooking up with that uptight bitch Dominique Destine."

"I thought you were over her," Jake whispered back. He looked at her pointedly. "I was there last week, remember? I'm pretty sure all that drama over Tanya wasn't just 'cause you like being chased by Xanatos' robots."

Candy made a face. "I _am_ over her," she replied. Her eyes narrowed to dark slits as she watched her ex-girlfriend, Andrea Calhoun, float across the room to greet another group of well-dressed new arrivals. When they had first met, Andy had been a shy, quiet, soft-spoken college girl, still uncertain about her sexuality and still obsessing over a missing older sister. They dated for over six months before she scored her first kiss. She invested two more months before Andy was finally willing to go farther. After that, though, she had made fairly steady progress. Gradually, she had drawn Andy out of her shell, transforming that timid girl into the ideal lover. 

Andy had moved in with her at the beginning of October, and everything had been going fine… right up until the gargoyles came along. She had joined up with George and the Quarrymen. Andy had joined up with her college art school friends in creating P.I.T. Three weeks and several heated arguments later, she'd come home from a late rally to find Andy gone, leaving not even so much as a "Dear Jane" letter behind. "Little gargoyle-loving bitch," Candy muttered. "I'm still amazed she didn't end up married to one."

"Where is the Ice Queen, anyway?" Jake asked. With sensitive eyes, he scanned the room, taking a quick inventory of the known P.I.T. supporters present. Oddly, Dominique Destine, major contributor and significant other to the artist guest of honor, did not appear to be among them.

"Who knows?" Candy replied. "And who cares? We're here to nab a gargoyle." She cast a glance down at Andrea again, now making her way through the growing crowd of museum patrons and P.I.T. supporters toward an exhibit of statuary at the far end of the room. "Not that it wouldn't be fun to give her hoity-toity little love slave a tweak while we're here."

"No. Forget about it. Don't even _think_ about deviating from the plan this time. I'd like to make it home in one piece tonight."

Danny surveyed the room, barely paying attention to the banter of his peers. Watching the artist shake hands had not proven nearly as interesting as checking out the paintings, sculptures, and other pieces which filled the exhibit hall. In contrast to the scene he'd witnessed outside, the mood inside the museum was pleasant and subdued. As people continued to filter in from the adjoining wings, he could only assume from the absence of any protestors that this opening night event was a private, invitation-only affair and that P.I.T. had taken great pains to ensure its security. It made him wonder if Angela's decision to use it as a venue for capturing her twin sister was really a wise one. 

"Look there," Jake whispered. "Last on the end, near the stage. I think that's her."

The other two halflings shifted their gaze, their eyes following where Jake pointed. Candy smiled. "Yep. I'd recognize that face anywhere." She touched her ear, activating a tiny com unit. "This is Alpha Team. Target acquired."

"Wow," Danny said. "She really _does_ look like Angela."

Candy snickered. "Kid, you'd be _surprised_ how much alike they really are."

* * *

Jezebella shook the last bits of stone skin from her hair. "Where are the others?" she demanded without preamble. She looked around the parking garage, satisfying herself that no one else was around, and took the hand Danny offered as she hopped down from the back of the van.

"Beta Team's keeping an eye out for any airborne interruptions," Candy replied. "Jake's upstairs, keeping an eye on your sister while she and her little artist friend play 'meet the press.' We've scoped it out and we think our best chance to grab her will be when she goes backstage. We'd better hurry, though." She checked her watch. "Museum closes in less than an hour."

Jezebella nodded. "Good work, Candy. You just may redeem yourself yet." She turned to Danny. "You wait here. Watch the van and keep the motor running."

"But I want to go with you, Angela."

"Best lookout I've ever had, remember?" Jezebella placed her hand on his shoulder and smiled affectionately. "You'll see me again, don't worry. Stay here, do your job, and if all goes well I'll be stopping by tomorrow night to say hello and help the Doc get that confession from my sister."

Danny wrapped his arms around his friend, giving her one last hug as Candy tapped her foot impatiently. "Good luck, Angela."

* * *

"Actually, I did most of the modeling during the day. It's easy to hold a pose when you're in stone sleep."

"Do you plan to keep modeling for Miss Calhoun, Angela?"

"I sure hope she does," Andrea interjected. "I've loved working with her." 

Jezebella watched silently from the wings as the gaggle of reporters chuckled. Even the media in attendance at this event had been hand selected by P.I.T., it seemed, and though it grated on every single nerve in her body to watch them fawn over her cloying, sweet sister, she forced herself to remain calm. There would be plenty of time later for vengeance, she reminded herself. Plenty of time later to repay Angela for all of her acts of unkindness. For now, the goal was only to make the switch. And she was close. So close, she could feel it. Just as soon as Angela walked off stage, they would have her.

"… and I'm afraid that's all the time we have for tonight. The museum will be closing in fifteen minutes. The exhibit will be continuing, of course, through the end of the month, open to the public during all normal museum hours. On behalf of the Met, thank you, everyone, for coming..."

Jezebella tensed as the moderator drew the evening's activities to a close, and a round of applause sounded for Angela and her artist friend. "Any moment now," she whispered, peering out onto the stage again. "Any moment… no… what she doing?" Jezebella's smile of anticipation turned to a scowl as she watched Angela take Andrea's arm and approach the front of the stage. The flash of a camera confirmed the cause of the delay. "Fucking hell," she muttered.

"How about one near the statuary, for the next newsletter?"

Jezebella growled, her eyes flashing red as the P.I.T. photographer lured her twin sister off the stage. "Damn her. Why does she have to be such an insatiable media whore?" Her head throbbed as she realized she needed a new plan, and fast. Perhaps if she had one of the halflings create a diversion. She grinned, an idea forming. Turning on her heel, she hurried to find Candy and Jake. 

* * *

__

"I don't care who you are… or where you're from… don't care what you did, as long as you love me…"

The radio softly crooned another mindless pop tune through tinny-sounding speakers. Danny sighed. It felt like he'd been waiting for hours. He checked the digital clock on the dashboard. 8:58. It hadn't even been forty-five minutes. Vaguely, he became conscious of the fact that he was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the song. "Ugh, I'm starting to like this stuff," he muttered. He gripped the wheel tightly until the urge to continue had passed, focusing instead on the sound of the motor. The engine hummed steadily, then dropped a tone as the air conditioning compressor cycled on. Danny wrinkled his nose as he caught the sudden scent of gasoline and oil-heavy exhaust, and he fiddled with the vent control levers trying to find a setting that wouldn't draw the air from outside.

"…and in news here at the top of the hour, a police spokesman says officers have made over two dozen arrests so far in conjunction with a riot that broke out just before sunset on Fifth Avenue in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art." 

Danny's ear's perked up, and he nudged the volume on the radio up a few notches. "Apparently upset over an unconfirmed report that a gargoyle has been identified as a suspect in an ongoing police investigation into a recent series of burglaries," the announced continued, "former members of the disbanded Quarrymen group, together with other anti-gargoyle protestors, converged on the museum, where a special exhibit on the creatures was opening today. It's not known at this time what caused the protest to degenerate into a fistfight between gargoyle supporters and detractors, but a spokesman for the Met has assured us that events inside the museum went on as planned and that at no time did the rioters ever pose any serious danger to the facility or the gargoyle who was herself appearing as part of the exhibit…"

A loud bang from the back of the van jolted Danny to alertness. "Let's go!" Candy hollered as she threw the doors open. Jake scrambled in first, pulling Danny from the front seat as he rose. 

"I'm driving, kid. Go help her," he ordered, taking his place behind the wheel. Danny staggered slightly as he was pushed back into the cargo area, and he froze as the limp body Candy carried over her shoulder landed at his feet with a dull _thud_.

"Is that her?" he asked, staring in wonderment at the unconscious lavender gargoyle.

"Well it ain't Sleeping Beauty," Candy quipped as she hopped in and drug the doors shut behind her. "Beta Team, this is Alpha Team," she barked into her com unit. "The mouse is in the trap. We're ready to move out."

"Roger that, Alpha Team," a male voice replied. "You are clear to move. No bugs in sight. We'll keep you covered back to base."

Jake didn't even wait for Candy to give the go-ahead as he threw the shifter into drive. "Time to make like sheep and get the flock out of here."

A few tense minutes later, they had left the art museum far behind and were winding their way through city streets toward the tunnel that would take them back out of Manhattan. The whole time, Danny had been staring at the captured gargoyle, marveling at how close the resemblance between her and her sister actually was. At last, he dared to touch her. She was warm, but did not stir. 

"She ain't dead, kid," Candy said. She wiped her brow, rising from the overturned milk crate that made for a makeshift seat. "But she'll be wishing she was soon enough. Here. Help me with this."

Danny grunted as he helped Candy drag a heavy sack out of the corner. "How did you knock her out?" he asked.

"Chloroform. The Doc's own special blend. She didn't even have time to look surprised." 

"Strong enough for a bull elephant, but made for a gargoyle," Jake quipped from the front seat, chuckling at his own joke.

"Thing is," Candy added, "it's never been tested before. So just in case it wears off before we can get Miss Congeniality here safely tucked in at her new home, I brought these along." 

Danny's eyes went wide with shock as Candy rolled down the top of the canvas bag and brought out one of the heavy sets of polished steel manacles it contained. He moved back as Candy rolled the slumbering gargoyle over and locked the first shackle about her right ankle. "Come on, kid. Give me a hand here."

Danny hesitated. During his captivity in Sector 13, he himself had been restrained in chains on several occasions, and he'd never enjoyed it. The glee with which Candy worked was disturbing to say the least.

Candy snapped the second shackle about the girl's left ankle, and slammed the hasp of the lock home. "Is there a problem?"

"No, it's just that… is all this really necessary?"

"Hey, you tell me, kid. You know what this bitch did to your friend."

Danny took another look at the unconscious gargoyle, imagining Angela, lying helpless before a gang of Quarrymen, watching in horror as her own flesh and blood glided away, abandoning her to a fate of torture and certain death. "You're right," he said, dropping to his knees beside Candy. She pulled a length of chain from the sack and he accepted it eagerly. "She deserves it."

"Damn straight," Candy said. "Now… around the waist with that one. To hold the wings. And make it tight. Comfort's not the goal here."

A short time later, the last chain had been used and just one lock remained. "Here, why don't you do the honors… Danny." Candy smiled as she placed it in his hand, and he smiled back as he snapped it into place, securing the hasp on the heavy collar that now encircled the neck of Angela's traitorous twin.

The van was cruising steadily along the highway now, and Candy sat a moment to admire her handiwork. Sturdy shackles bound the gargoyle's wrists and ankles, and heavy chains about her waist, belly, and torso rendered her wings immobile. Only one final touch remained to be added. "Perfect," she said. "And now for the icing on the cake." 

Danny blinked as Candy brought out a black leather harness with a red ball attached. "Wow," he muttered. That's just like in _Pulp Fiction_!"

"Yeah," Candy replied. "Kinky, huh? Hold her head for me."

Jake glanced up at the rear view mirror. "There is such a thing as liking your work a bit _too_ much, you know," he said.

"I just don't want to hear all the whining and crying, that's all," Candy retorted. "I had my fill of that with Andy. Maybe I should've bought one of these back then." She tightened the straps and buckles with practiced precision, forcing the ball gag securely into the hapless gargoyle's fanged mouth. "There," she said, tucking the final strap into place. "If that don't make her mighty unhappy when she wakes up, I don't know what will."

For the first time ever, the three halflings all shared a chuckle.

* * *

Andrea shouldered her purse and took one last look at the display of her paintings. _Reawakening_, the nude of Angela bursting forth from her stone slumber, shared the front and center spot with _Introspection_, a nude study of Demona in a more contemplative pose. The young artist gave a wistful sigh. "Maybe one day, Domi, you won't have to hide any more."

"Are you ready to go, Andrea? Gregory's outside with the car." 

The petite woman looked up. "Angela. Yes… let's go home."

* * *

"Chloroform's wearing off. She's waking up."

A muffled, indignant growl punctuated Jake's words, and Candy tightened her grip on the struggling gargoyle, dragging her roughly out of the van onto the cold, hard concrete floor of the warehouse.

"Gee, you think?" she replied. A sharp kick and a quick jolt of green energy from her hands stilled the enraged female momentarily, and Candy took the opportunity to improve her grip. Grabbing a handful of the girl's ponytail, she jerked the gargoyle's head back as she began resisting anew. "You'll stop fighting if you know what's good for you, bitch!" The invective only seemed to infuriate the chained creature more. Her eyes flared red and she hissed furiously behind the gag, screaming words the rubber ball rendered unintelligible. "Damn it," Candy muttered. "Danny, get hold of the leash for Christ's sake! We're going to have to teach this filthy beast a lesson."

In his hurry, Danny tumbled out of the back of the van, narrowly avoiding a swipe from the angrily lashing tail that they had been unable to restrain. "I'm on it," he said. Circling around from Jake's side, he grabbed for the dangling length of chain attached to the captive gargoyle's collar… and froze as her wide, pleading eyes met his. She ceased struggling, holding him transfixed with her gaze. "Angela?" he whispered. "Oh my god."

Candy curled her hand into a fist, using the moment of distraction to sucker punch the bound gargoyle in the gut with every ounce of her superhuman strength. Danny's eyes blazed in eldritch fury as his friend groaned and slumped in her chains, doubling over in pain. "No!" he screamed. He leapt at Candy. A second later, they both hit the floor, rolling and grasping for each other's throats.

"Have you lost your mind, kid?!?" the halfling woman hissed.

"You crazy bitch!" Danny retorted. "You kidnapped the wrong one!" They came to rest with him on top, and he drew back a fist of his own. Thinking fast, Candy through up an energy shield as he punched. Magic met magic, and the backlash knocked the boy from astride her. "Stupid punk! I knew we should've left you where we found you." She regained her feet, and hauled the dazed teen to his by the collar of his jacket. "Leave the gargoyle bitch there," she yelled, glaring at Jake. "She's not going anywhere. This little brat needs a spanking first!"

The chained and gagged gargoyle slumped limply to the ground as Jake stepped away. "It's about damn time," he growled.

"And just what, if I may I ask, is going on here?" The two halflings froze at the sound of the imperious voice. Jake edged back, and Candy swallowed hard as Doctor Sevarius stepped out of the shadows.

"Just taking care of a little discipline problem, Doc," she said. Seeing the unamused expression on the scientist's face, she released her grip on Danny's jacket, allowing the boy to stagger away.

"He attacked her first," Jake interjected.

"They're both morons!" Danny rubbed his throbbing head, speaking up at last. "This isn't Angela's sister," he said, returning to the fallen gargoyle's side. "It's Angela!"

"Is that so?" Sevarius's tone betrayed a hint a of doubt, and he stepped closer for a better look at the trussed up female gargoyle.

Candy and Jake looked at each other. They'd waited backstage as Jezebella had instructed, following her simply worded orders to the letter. "Wait here. When she walks past, subdue her." There was no way they could have screwed it up. Not unless Jezebella…

"Give him the keys," Sevarius intoned darkly. "Now."

* * * * *

There was a knock at his study door. Xanatos looked up, unsurprised but unhappy at the prospect of the coming interview and the end to his time with Alexander. He enjoyed being with his son. It gave him a lift that empire building couldn't match. But the boy, it seemed, was getting bigger everyday and soon he'd be off building his own empires. He handed Alexander the drafting pencil he had been using to sketch the boat, carefully translating the child's demands into plausible proportions, and answered. "Come in."

The door swung open revealing Goliath. "You wished to see me?"

David rose from the floor, picking up the sketchpad off the carpet. He handed it to Alexander as well. The little boy smiled fearlessly at the brawny lavender gargoyle and waved.

"Hello, Alexander," Goliath rumbled. "What have you there?"

"I'm helping Daddy build a boat." Goliath knelt as child approached and accepted the drawing thrust at him.

Goliath exchanged a glance with David over the boy's head. Pride tugged a smile at the corner of the billionaire's lip. "It's a very fine ship," the gargoyle agreed.

David retrieved his son and the drawing, ruffling the boy's red hair, as Owen appeared silently at the door behind Goliath. "We'll work on this tomorrow. Now go to your room and get ready for bed. Owen will help you and I'll be in to tuck you in after I talk to Goliath."

"Promise?"

David nodded solemnly. Alexander grinned and grabbed Owen's hand. "Let's go, Uncle Owen. 'Night, Goliath," he called over his shoulder at the gargoyle as he dragged the aide de camp out of the room.

"Kids," Xanatos said as he resettled himself behind his desk. "You never know what they're going to be up to next. The boat was his idea, you know."

Goliath raised an eye ridge and wondered where the conversation was leading. "Really."

"Yep. We were at the lake and he started messing around with leaves and twigs. The next thing I knew he was commanding a flotilla of acorn people on their tiny ships. I was very impressed at his initiative."

"I'm sure you were."

Xanatos pulled a computer disk from his desk and waved it in Goliath's direction. "But it wasn't my kid's initiative that I wanted to talk to you about. It's yours."

"Mine? You mean Angela," Goliath replied, still confused. He crossed the short distance to David's desk and watched as the billionaire fed the disk into his computer and entered a series of keystrokes.

"I do. Now you know that you and your clan have the run of the castle," David prefaced. "I'm fine with that, I really am. But we did agree that the rest of the building was subject to certain restrictions."

"And Angela has not been obeying the prohibitions?" Goliath folded his arms over his bare chest. Xanatos seldom treated anything with the severity that this infraction of the rules seemed to be garnering.

The billionaire sat back in his chair and stroked his beard as he framed his next statement. "I'm afraid it's more serious then that, Goliath. Angela's not only been trespassing, she's been stealing."

"What?" Goliath was only partially successful in muting his cry of outrage. "Surely you are mistaken, Xanatos."

David shrugged in resignation. "I wish I were. We're not talking an extra pint of Hagaan Daz , Goliath. This is serious." He looked up at the clan leader. "Sit down, please. While I bring you up to speed."

Goliath shook his head impatiently. "Explain your accusations."

"Okay, here's the short version," David replied off Goliath's impatient growl. "The explosion in Sector 13 was caused by somebody tampering with a stasis unit. That somebody didn't know all the proper release protocols and got impatient, smashing a generator in the process. In addition to causing extensive damage, research equipment and files were stolen."

"What has this to do with Angela?"

A pained expression passed over the billionaire's normally cool façade. "We've checked every surveillance tape frame by frame. Gone over the place with a crack team of forensics experts." A hard copy of the report began to feed out of a printer. Xanatos rose, collated the pages. "They didn't find much. But what they did turn up, it was damning. Our tapes of the corridors leading to Sector 13 show a recurring pattern of being blacked out." He shoved a black and white photograph across the desk along with the rest of the pages. Angela in profile, the location unfamiliar, clearly in a hurry to get somewhere. "This image dates back over a month ago. We think it must have caught her initial foray into Sector 13 before she became aware we were monitoring. Owen believes Angela could have magically induced the blackouts. A trick that I believe she could have picked up from Demona."

Goliath gave the human a dark look. No need asking why he had made that assumption. His ex-mate and the businessmen, prior to their reformations, had been partnered in a lengthy criminal enterprise. "I see. But that proves nothing. How do you know Angela was responsible for the theft in Sector 13?"

"We found her prints on fragments of the damaged generator and on other locations within the stasis area." Xanatos sighed, sharing the Clan Leader's disappointment in his daughter. "I wouldn't have brought this to you, Goliath, unless our evidence was conclusive."

"There must be some explanation." Goliath replied numbly.

David rose and stood next to his former foe. He put his hand on the brawny gargoyle's shoulder and squeezed rock hard muscle. "Look, if it were my kid. If it were Alex in the hot seat." David broke off, knowing that if their positions were reversed his impulse would be to stonewall, hire lawyers first, then ask questions later when the threat was comfortably at bay. "We all want to protect our children, Goliath. But even if Angela thought she had a good reason for stealing technology from Sector 13, she's bitten off more than she can chew and she needs help. Your help. And probably mine too. We need to talk to her. Find out what's going on."

"I agree." Goliath stood. Worry lines creased the gargoyle's face and to Xanatos it seemed he'd aged decades in the space of a few minutes. "I will find her and bring her to you."

"Goliath, I'm truly sorry about this."

The gargoyle did not reply as he left the office in search of his errant child.

* * * * *

"Here, Jessie." Sevarius pressed a glass of water and two large white tablets into the girl's hands. "Take these and try to calm down."

Jezebella tossed the pain pills into her mouth and chugged from the glass, swallowing them down together in one huge gulp. "Calm down?!?" she sputtered. "That halfling witch nearly broke my spleen!" She grimaced as the medicine's bitter aftertaste came, and finished off the rest of the water. Her jaw ached from biting down on the gag. In her fury, she'd clenched her teeth into the rubber ball so hard that when Danny had freed her he'd had to help her pry it loose from her fangs. Her ribs and stomach ached, as well, courtesy of that intolerable female halfling. And her head… her head was throbbing with the worst hangover headache she'd ever had in her life. She handed the empty glass back to Sevarius and massaged her aching brow ridges with her talons. "Ugh. What the hell was in that stuff you gave them, anyway?"

"The side effects will wear off soon, Jessie," the scientist assured. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "They didn't mean to hurt _you_, you know. They thought you were your sister."

"Stupid halflings!" Jezebella's eyes flashed in irritation as she angrily brushed the doctor's hand away. "I'm sick of them all. I don't know why we ever recruited them in the first place. The only one of them who doesn't hate me is Danny, but that's only because he's so pathetically gullible. If I batted my eyes just right, I could be the Wicked Witch of the West and he'd still love me."

"All human males his age are rather hormonally challenged. Don't look a gift halfling in the mouth, Jessie. He's been quite an asset to you in his own way."

"I suppose," she muttered. Jezebella rubbed at her side. The lacing of the tunic was starting to itch, adding just that much additional annoyance to her bruises, but things could be worse, she realized. Without Danny having recognized her, she might be lying chained up in that tiny cell downstairs right now. She shuddered in revulsion at the thought of being tormented until dawn by Candy and the others. That was a fate, she realized, she would not wish upon any gargoyle. "If that witch ever touches me again, Doctor," she said quietly, "I swear you'll have to clean up what's left of her with a sponge. And that goes for my sister, as well. No one touches her but _me_. No one."

Sevarius blinked, taken aback by the icy undertone in the clone's voice. "I'll… be sure to pass on the warning," he said at last.

Jezebella nodded, eyeing the man carefully for a moment before caping her wings and slumping against a tall filing cabinet. "So it looks like tonight's another washout," she grumbled, "thanks to halfling incompetence."

"Well," Sevarius said, "that actually depends on you." He gave a small smile. "I had a feeling you might encounter unexpected difficulties at the art museum, so I took the initiative in sending out a third team to keep an eye on you." He tapped a button on the wall, and a camera feed came up on one of the monitors. 

Jezebella drew herself erect again and took a step closer. "Destine Manor?"

Sevarius nodded. "I'd been starting to wonder why you hadn't left yet after seeing Demona's pretty little mate home. But then you arrived back here. So if you wish to salvage the night, Jessie…"

"I'll go alone," she declared. "This time, it will get done right."

"You should at least take Danny with you," Sevarius suggested. "He seemed quite eager to apologize for his part in tonight's little misunderstanding. I think it would be a shame to waste his talents."

Jezebella's lips curled into a small smile as she gave the idea some thought. Every other sentence out of Danny's mouth a short while ago as he unlocked the chains and shackles had been "I'm sorry," but she'd left him behind with the others without so much as saying a word. He'd be willing to do almost anything for her now, and the thought of using him against her sister still appealed to her greatly. "Very well," she replied. "I'll take him and meet up with the others already in the field. As for Candy… I would suggest giving _her_ the honor of being Dr. Ling's first test subject."

Sevarius chuckled as Jezebella drew in her wings and started out the door. "I'll take that suggestion under advisement, Jessie."

The gargoyle paused at the door frame. "Oh yes, one more thing, Doctor," she said. As she turned around to meet his gaze, the smile dropped from her face and her eyes went cold and harsh. "Stop… calling… me… Jessie!"

* * * * *

"Thanks, Roy," Elisa keyed her microphone off and dropped the handset on the seat beside her. Angela had left the Metropolitan more than two hours ago. Her appearance had gone smoothly despite the small riot that had broken out prior to the event and the demonstration that had clogged the area afterwards. She had been seen leaving in a long black limousine. "Fine. Let's try the castle," Elisa muttered.

The Fairlane banked smoothly left and Elisa tried to concentrate on her driving even as she tried to figure out how she was going to handle what promised to be a very tense situation. A taxi swerved in front of her and Elisa veered, barely avoiding scraping yellow paint. "Let's just start by getting there in one piece."

* * *

Goliath touched down smoothly on the courtyard and paused to give himself time to think. Angela had promised to come home after her appearance at the Art Museum but no one had set eyes on her since the clan had risen from the supper table. Lexington had seemed unusually tense when queried about her whereabouts, but when questioned further he had only mentioned something about a flood of email threatening to overwhelm the server and excused himself hastily.

The gargoyle leader turned on his heel with the intention of calling his ex mate. He narrowly avoided knocking down his current as Elisa strode out onto the courtyard. She seemed very tense, although her face softened momentarily at the sight of him. "Goliath. I've been looking for you. Where's Angela?"

Not the greeting he'd anticipated. The smile slipped from his lips as he replied, "Why?"

Elisa shook her head abruptly. "Not out here. Inside. Your office. Now. Though the top of the detective's head barely reached his mid bicep, she grabbed her mate firmly by the elbow and steered him inside the castle and down the short corridor that lead to his workspace. She pushed open the door and once they were safely inside shoved it closed with the sole of her well- polished black sneaker. "Where's Angela?"

"I do not know." Goliath stepped away from Elisa, breaking their contact. He scented her distress. Why was Elisa so tense? "She did not return from her speaking engagement as she promised. Why? Has something happened?"

Elisa found she didn't know what to do with herself. She paced for several moments before returning to Goliath's side and placing her hand, gently this time, on his. "Maybe you should sit down for this."

Twice in one night someone had inquired about Angela and then suggested he sit down. Goliath felt a numbness creep over him. "Angela is in trouble, isn't she, Elisa."

The detective nodded. "I'm sorry, Goliath but this is official police business. Angela is a suspect in both a string of robberies and the assault of a security guard. I'm under instructions from Captain Chavez to take her to the Labyrinth for questioning."

"To Talon? Why?" Goliath decided sitting down wasn't such a bad idea. He slumped into his chair and tried to absorb this latest turn of events.

"Matt's idea, actually. Neutral territory," she explained. We didn't want to bring Angela to the station and, in light of the current tension, the Captain didn't want to come here. We were hoping we could keep the interrogation under wraps in case we were wrong. And if we were right, we wanted to keep the arrest quiet to protect the rest of you."

An arrest. By human authorities? His daughter? Goliath closed his eyes. Not even when Demona had been at her worst had they considered such a possibility. "Why is this happening?" he said at last.

"I don't know, Goliath." Elisa, torn between her roles as Official Bearer of Bad News and Loving Mate, finally succumbed to her protective instincts. She stood behind Goliath and wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek against the top of his head. "Some how we missed the signs that something was wrong. Maybe it was the pressure of the sudden fame. Or maybe someone is blackmailing her into doing these things. We won't know until we confront her."

"Xanatos said much the same thing."

"When?" Elisa asked suspiciously.

Never had Goliath felt the need to unburden himself as keenly as it did at that moment. He gestured for Elisa to take a chair of her own and when she was settled, he recapped the earlier conversation. "I spoke with Xanatos earlier. Angela has been implicated in the explosion in Sector 13. Xanatos has evidence as well," he said recalling the photograph and the fingerprints. "It was damning." Goliath sighed heavily. "I fear Demona's rehabilitation has been a ruse. She must be using Angela in some new scheme." He was suddenly relieved that Elisa had intercepted him before he'd had a chance to tip Demona and by proxy, Angela.

"We don't know that, Goliath," Elisa cautioned. "Right now the physical evidence only points to Angela. Unless there's something you're not telling me."

"Xanatos implied that Angela learned to disable the security monitors from Demona. That she had used a similar technique during their former association."

"I see." It was one more very circumstantial nail in Demona's coffin. She knew what Matt would make of it, but it still felt wrong to Elisa's gut. "You think they're together at Destine Manor?"

Goliath shook his head. "Perhaps. It was her intention to spend part of the evening with Demona."

"I'll have to go after her."

Goliath rose to his feet and resettled his wings resolutely. "I know. I will go as well. Angela is a member of my clan and my daughter. Her transgressions are my responsibility. I will assist you in turning her over to the authorities."

"You don't have to do this," Elisa replied. She stood as well and smoothed her jacket. She noticed Goliath staring at the taser strapped in her armpit holder and zipped her windbreaker partially closed.

"Yes, I do," Goliath said firmly. "I will meet you at the manor gate."

Elisa nodded and together they exited the office.

* * * * *

"Ptah." Brooklyn pasted a welcoming look upon his beak and dipped forward into a hurried bow. "This is an unexpected … honor." A partial truth, Ptah had arrived at the castle with no warning. Whether his intentions were honorable was still open to debate.

Ptah returned the gesture. Bowing low from his snake-like waist, the bronze of his skin rippled in the faux torchlight. "You honored my clan with your presence. I only wished to do the same."

Uh-huh. Brooklyn thought to himself. Just dropping by for a chat and a game of chess. "We've nothing prepared for such an honored guest. But we offer our hospitality just the same. If you'll excuse me just a moment, I'll notify the others that you've arrived." Brooklyn pivoted and took several long steps away from Ptah. He raised a brick red wrist to his beak and hissed into the transmitter implanted there. "Sata. We've got a problem. Ptah's here. We need someplace to stash him. Is the common room okay?"

"The children were doing their schoolwork. I will conclude their lesson and we will prepare suitable refreshments."

Despite the sudden annoyance of Ptah's arrival Brooklyn grinned. "Perfect. I love you, Sata. Have I told you that tonight?"

"Not nearly enough," his mate replied fondly as she severed the connection.

"You must be tired after your long journey." Brooklyn gestured toward the archway that lead toward the gargoyle's section of the castle and indicated for Ptah to proceed. "How did you get here anyway? Owen didn't say anything about a packing crate arriving."

Ptah smiled. "Such conveyances are serviceable for some journeys but I preferred to use my own methods. You are not the only clan with human allies, you know, Ambassador."

Brooklyn paused and considered his reply. He'd not seen a single human among the clan during his weeks in Egypt, even though at one time the gargoyles had served the Pharaoh as loyal subjects. "Of course not. However, I was given to believe you didn't deal much with them."

Ptah shrugged sinuously and the hood of his cobra-like head, so incongruous with the broken rams horns, flared. "We do what we must. As we always have and as I suspect, we always will."

"Right." Ptah dealt with humans while subtly discouraging his clan from doing the same. Brooklyn wondered if Senen knew or if Ptah was acting on his own. It put the much-traveled gargoyle on guard. "So are you here by your lonesome, or should we prepare for a larger entourage?"

"I have no companions. I am a humble traveler who seeks only to honor the eggs of the rookery."

Uh-oh. Not that again. Brooklyn thought as they entered the common room. Sata had done an admirable job in the few minutes she'd been given. The kids' schoolwork, formerly spread over the table, along with several bowls of popcorn and other assorted snacks, was gone. A tray of fresh fruit and pitchers of both water and wine had replaced it. Hudson, Bronx at his side stood waiting to greet them.

"You must be Ptah," the elderly gargoyle burred. His Scots accent sounded genial to Brooklyn's ears, but it wasn't hard to miss the casual battle ready posture of the old soldier.

Ptah bowed as Brooklyn made the introduction. "This is Hudson, our eldest elder." Sata re entered the room. "And this," Brooklyn said as he took the hand of the jade green female, "is Sata, my mate."

Sata bowed politely off of Ptah's murmured greeting. "Welcome to our home." She poured a goblet of water and handed it to Brooklyn. Her mate in turn handed it to Hudson who offered it to Ptah. "A glass of water for ya, lad. To wash away the travel dust."

Ptah, hesitated for a moment, contemplating the pewter goblet. He accepted the cup and took a sip. "You honor me with my own clan's ritual of hospitality. You are most kind."

Yeah, and now you're most bound by those same rules, you old snake. Brooklyn's beak twitched imperceptibly as Hudson winked at him.

"Have a seat and relax," the elderly gargoyle said as he settled into his favorite armchair. "Tell us what brings you all the way from Egypt."

"I had hoped for an audience with Goliath." Ptah looked from Brooklyn to Hudson and finally to Sata. "He has seemed somewhat reluctant to speak with me of late. No offense intended, Ambassador Brooklyn, but some matters should be left between clan leaders."

Brooklyn sipped from his own goblet. "None taken. It's funny though, I'd been led to believe that Senen was the leader of your clan. Has there been some kind of change?"

"No!" Ptah replied hastily. "May she live long and rule wisely. Senen still leads our clan, but she dares not travel and this matter is of a delicate nature."

"Well perhaps it's best left alone." Bronx whined and Hudson diverted his attention away from Ptah. Arianna stood in the doorway, slouching, a jade green miniature of her father. She straightened as she entered, then crossed to her mother. Sata bent and nodded, gave the child a pat on the shoulder and then dismissed her.

"My daughter informs me that your room has been prepared," Sata announced.

"You are, of course, invited to roost with us out in the courtyard," Brooklyn added. "But we thought you might want a place of your own to unwind in. Goliath is away on an errand and he may be a while."

"I see," Ptah replied stiffly. "Thank you. I believe I shall retire. If you would show me the way?" He bowed perfunctorily towards Hudson and Sata and stalked from the room as Brooklyn trailed in his wake.

* * * * *

Elisa glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes had passed since she'd last checked. Time was dragging. It was hot and sticky. The detective pulled at her tee shirt, unplastering it from her breasts and back. She unbuckled the thin black leather strap from her wrist, shoved the watch in her back pocket, cracked the window on the passenger side to allow some cross ventilation and settled in to wait some more. Elisa hated stakeouts. They tended to be long and boring and this one was proving to be no exception. She didn't even have Matt sitting beside her to play 'Twenty Questions'. Thirst gnawed at her, but the water bottle was long dry. She looked skyward. Though she was solo in the car, the detective wasn't alone. Somewhere out there behind the cover of the trees, Goliath waited.

Her cell phone beeped.

Elisa picked up the handheld off the dash and flipped it open. "Maza." Speak of the devil and he will appear. She thought as the tense voice of her partner issued from the tiny receiver. "No. We're still in position and there's been no change. The house is dark. No answer to the door or phone. If anybody's in there they don't want to be disturbed." She listened a minute. "Has something developed?" Off the negative response, "Then we still don't have probable cause for a warrant. I'll call you the minute something happens. Tell the Captain we'll re-schedule. Yeah. Bye." Snapped the phone closed and dropped it on the seat beside her. Elisa closed her eyes and rubbed slim fingers over her temples.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she'd always known that this night would come. That one of the clan would find themselves on the wrong side of the law. Elisa always figured it would come from one of their acts of vigilantism going wrong. That Goliath would let his temper get away with him or Broadway with his famous disdain towards guns would lean too hard on the wrong person. Neither overt crime nor Angela had ever entered into the scenarios she'd prepared herself for. And yet, here it was. Even Xanatos had evidence according to Goliath. Evidence that the clan leader deemed credible. It was too much. It was also her job to deal with it. Elisa retrieved a six tablet tin of aspirin from the glove box and swallowed three of them dry, grimaced, and returned her attention to the view of the driveway in front of her.

The night dragged on. It grew hotter and more humid. Lightning cracked turning the sky brilliant purple. It began to rain.

* * * * *

Angela listened to the rain beat a staccato patter on the window pane and stared at the large tome that lay open on the worktable before her. She had forced her way through fifty pages of faded, handwritten Latin script since Demona had left, but she knew if her mother were to return now, she would not be able to recall a single word even if her life depended on it. She sighed. Danny was still missing, and Lexington had promised to have updates on his investigation for her when they met up after her appearance at the Met. She had rode home in the limousine with Andrea only to avoid the mob of demonstrators and paparazzi that waited outside the museum, and see her mother's mate safely back to Destine Manor. She hadn't meant to stay long, as she had totally forgotten that tonight, by virtue of it being Wednesday, was her regular lesson night.

"Mother, please. I really need to get back to the castle. Can't we make an exception this one time?" she had asked as she was led to the study, Demona's taloned hand clenched tight about her wrist.

"No," Demona had replied, in a tone that indicated no further argument would be entertained. "You've been neglecting your lessons for over a month, Angela. You've permitted too many distractions to interfere with the time you should be spending on your studies. Modeling… public appearances… trysts with your mate at all hours of the night. It's time to get your priorities back in order, my daughter."

Angela swallowed hard as the little white lie she had used the previous week to excuse her tardiness was thrown back at her, and she ceased resisting as Demona escorted her into the workroom at sat her on her usual stool. 

"Ages ago," Demona stated as she retrieved a book from the shelves, "a recalcitrant apprentice might find herself subject to corporal punishment or worse for falling behind in her studies. Fortunately, your teacher also happens to be your mother, and she doesn't believe she needs to resort to such extreme measures. At least not just yet." Angela balked slightly at the cool undertone to Demona's words, but said nothing as her mother placed the large volume before her. "This is the material you were supposed to have been studying this past month. Obviously my translation of it has not proven adequate, so tonight I think I shall have you review it in the original Latin." She placed a taloned hand on Angela's shoulder as the younger female stared wide-eyed at the huge, ancient text. "Study it well, young one. I will return an hour before dawn to quiz you, and determine whether or not you will be spending the day."

With that, Demona had departed, leaving her to the seemingly impossible task. Angela planted her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand, sighing again as she attempted to return to her reading. The smooth click of the lock on the doorknob as her mother left two hours earlier might as well have been the sound of prison bars slamming home. "At least she didn't chain me to the table," she muttered. Still, she despite being waylaid from her original plans for the evening, she couldn't bring herself to be upset with Demona. She _had_ been slacking on her studies, and her mother had a right to be concerned. She didn't dare share the true reasons as to why she had fallen behind, however. Demona still held a very low tolerance for anything having to do with the Third Race, and she held an even greater contempt for the halflings. Even if she were to tell her mother about Danny, she wouldn't appreciate Angela's concern or understand her reasons any better than Goliath or Broadway or the rest of the clan.

The sound of the door being unbolted startled Angela from her thoughts. Had she somehow lost track of the time until Demona was due back to test her on her reading? Panicked, she looked up, only to breathe a sigh of relief as instead of the flame-haired blue gargoyle, a petite blonde woman timidly stepped into the room. 

"Jeannie, hello," Angela greeted. She put on a friendly smile which slipped into a bemused grin as she noticed the young woman's attire. She was wearing a maid's uniform: a black dress, accented at the cuffs and collar with white lace, with a matching apron about her waist and ruffled cap upon her head. It looked very authentic, and Angela did her best not to giggle. "This is a surprise," she added.

"Good evening, Miss Angela," Jeannie said. "I just wanted to see if you needed anything tonight."

"I'm fine, Jeannie," Angela replied. She regarded the young woman carefully for a moment, unable to shake the same feeling she'd had the first time they'd met a few weeks ago that there was a lot more to the story of how Demona and Andrea had come to acquire their "houseguest" than either of them had so far let on. Fox's joking comment after hearing of the new living arrangement during one of their prep sessions with Broadway had already raised enough questions in her mind. Jeannie's new costume only raised more. "So… are you getting ready for a costume party?"

Jeannie blushed self-consciously. "No, Miss Angela. Ms. Destine bought this for me today." She looked away and studied a spot on the floor. "You don't like it either, do you?"

Angela slipped from her stool and resettled her wings. "My mother bought you a maid's costume?" she asked, confused. "Why?"

"Miss Andrea hates it too," Jeannie said miserably. "Ms. Destine promised me she'd like it once she saw me in it, but she hates it!" 

Angela was at the stricken woman's side within seconds, her own worries for the moment forgotten as she pushed the door shut with her tail and moved a now sobbing Jeannie to a nearby chair. Unsure of the source of her distress but wanting to comfort her, she knelt beside the woman and stroked her hair, and helped her find the hem of the apron to dry her tears. "It's okay, Jeannie," she crooned softly. "It's - oh my." Angela gave a soft gasp as she traced the tip of a pointed ear with her talon. 

Jeannie looked up at Angela's unexpected touch, blinking damp eyes as she realized the girl had uncovered the shameful secret Ms. Destine had admonished her many times to always keep hidden. The look on Angela's face, though, wasn't one of shock and horror as Ms. Destine's repeated warnings had led her to expect. It was instead one of quiet fascination. "Miss Angela, I…" She quieted as the girl's dark eyes met her own.

Angela examined Jeannie carefully, noting the other faintly elfin features of her face that suddenly seemed to come into focus. "You're of the Third Race," Angela breathed, her mind whirring as a half dozen cryptic remarks made by Andrea and her mother over the past two weeks seemed to fall into place, "aren't you?"

Jeannie sniffled and looked away again. "Not exactly," she replied, hugging herself. "I used to be, but I'm not any more. At least for the most part."

Angela took Jeannie's hand into her own and squeezed it reassuringly. Was she a halfling who had been cured, or something else entirely? She could sense no strong magic about her, and her curiosity was growing by the second. She glanced over at the worktable, at the book of spells that would have to wait yet again for another night, then gave her full attention to Jeannie. "It sounds like it's a long story," she said, "but I'm a good listener if you wish to tell it."

* * * * *

Another hour. It wasn't nearly as oppressive inside the Fairlane. Elisa shifted behind the steering wheel, wishing she could get out of the car even for five minutes. She compromised, swinging her legs out from behind the steering wheel and onto the passenger seat. She leaned back against the window and pushed her shoulder blades into the door frame, easing the tension that cramped her back. Fifteen seconds in that pose did the trick. Pain subsided. Elisa released the stretch and bent her knees into a more comfortable slouch, kicked off her shoes, propped her feet on the upholstery and wondered how Goliath was holding up out in the rain.

Rain slicked Goliath, his long sable hair streaming rivulets of water down his muscular chest. A sensuous smile tugged at the corner of Elisa's full lips even as she fought to put the image out of her mind.

Poor guy is stuck out in the weather worried sick about his kid and all you can think about is how sexy he is, shame on you.

"Hey," she argued back to her over vigilant conscience, "even a cop on a stakeout has a right to an occasional lusty thought and it's not like he's a total stranger."

No. He's your lover and your life mate and he's going through hell. So why don't you think of an alternate scenario that fits the facts and clears Angela so that he can come in out of the rain?

Elisa stared at her denim-covered knees and began to re-review the case files she'd already memorized.

* * * * *

"… and they started fighting again right after Ms. Destine returned from escorting you down here. Fighting because of me." Jeannie sighed sadly. "It seems like that's all they do at night anymore. I came down here so I wouldn't have to hear them. I thought maybe you at least might need me."

Angela nodded slowly, still absorbing Jeannie's nearly unbelievable story. Until just a few short weeks ago, she had been a thousands years old magical being, imprisoned in a glass jar. Then Andrea had found her, wished her free, and she'd been transformed into the mostly human woman who sat beside her now. The tale would have even seemed incredible had Angela's own range of personal experience with things magical not taught her that what Jeannie claimed as her origins was by no means improbable. What troubled her the most, in fact, was not Jeannie's fantastic explanation of how she had come to live at Destine Manor, it was the way she had become seemingly caught between her two benefactresses.

"Being needed is important to you," Angela commented as she tried to make sense of the last part. 

Jeannie nodded. "I just don't know what to do, Angela. When I do as Miss Andrea wants, Ms. Destine dislikes it. When I do as Ms. Destine wants, Miss Andrea dislikes it. Miss Andrea always wants to take me out. Ms. Destine would prefer I stay at home. Ms. Destine asks me to help with chores. Miss Andrea tells me to stop. I just get so confused."

Angela smiled gently. "Maybe then, Jeannie, you should just do what _you_ want to do. You're not djinn anymore, and you're not beholden to Andrea _or_ to my mother. You've been given a new life, and my foster father always used say that your path in life is yours to choose."

The door opened abruptly, causing both women to jump to their feet. Angela relaxed marginally as she saw it was Andrea, but Jeannie seemed to instantly tense up.

"There you are," Andrea said, addressing Jeannie as if Angela wasn't even there. "I've been looking all over the house for you. Go get changed into something normal. We're going out. I need some air and we need to talk."

"Yes, Miss Andrea. Right away."

Angela watched as Jeannie retreated, hurrying from the room without a moment's hesitation as Andrea stepped in and yielded the doorway. The happy smile the young artist had worn several hours before at the art gallery was long gone, replaced by a look of agitation that seemingly dared Angela to offer commentary. Andrea was already clad in a light jacket, and despite the late hour and the long day that lay behind her, she still seemed fairly alert. After a moment, when it became clear that Angela was not going to offer the first word, she finally spoke.

"You know, I really wish I could figure out what gets into your mother's head sometimes. Did you _see_ that ridiculous get-up? Why not just put the poor girl in chains and end the pretense?"

Angela shifted her feet uncomfortably. She had done her best to remain non-judgmental with Jeannie although she, too, wondered by what logic her mother had come upon the idea to dress the young woman in a maid's uniform. Still, the last thing she wanted at the moment was to land herself in the middle of her parent and step-parent's domestic squabble. "I'll talk to my mother," she said, "if you'll promise me not to be too hard on Jeannie." Andrea opened her mouth to reply, but Angela belayed her words before they were spoken. "She told me her story tonight," she added. "It sounds like she's had a lot of changes to adjust to, Andrea. I bet a little patience would go a long way."

The artist tucked her hands into the pockets of her denim jacket. "You're right," she admitted. "I shouldn't have yelled at her earlier." Andrea gave a sigh that turned into a yawn. "By the way, if you want to get out of here, too, I think you're safe. Dominique got a phone call in the middle of our… discussion. She's been sealed up in her office ever since. She was speaking French when I last saw her so I'm going to go out on a limb and say it's something to do with the Paris office again."

"Again?" Angela asked.

Andrea nodded and stifled another yawn. "On Monday night, she got a call at one in the morning and was on the phone until dawn. So if you want to go home… I'll just tell her I gave you permission. I mean, what's one more thing when she's already pissed?"

Angela's wings were already twitching in anticipation of making the glide back to the castle as she followed Andrea to the foyer, and the earthy scent of fresh rain and grass met her nose, beckoning her, as Andrea opened the front door. Still, she paused before departing. "Are you going to be okay, Andrea?" she asked.

"Domi and I had a fight tonight. Tomorrow we'll make up." The painter shrugged. "I'll be fine, Angela. Now go on home."

Angela smiled and gave her friend a quick hug, then stepped outside and made for the high brick wall that surrounded the property. Impatient to get home, she climbed only halfway before leaping and catching an updraft to spiral her skyward. 

* * * * *

"Elisa." Goliath's baritone boomed from the headphones hung round the detective's neck. The detective snapped out of a light doze and shook her head, waking further. She slipped the headset into position and adjusted the volume.

"Here, Goliath. Report."

"Angela has left the house. She's on the wing and headed back toward the castle. I will intercept her and make sure she arrives."

"No. Don't, Goliath." Elisa snapped. She glanced at the sky, saw the rain had lightened to a drizzle, and dug her watch out of her back pocket to confirm. "She still has time to stop along the way. Maybe lead us to someone or something important. Tail her. I'll meet you at the castle."

"Very well." Elisa could sense her mate's unease, both at her choice of tactics and at the possibility of witnessing personally more damning evidence against his daughter. But he knew he didn't have a choice. "I will see you shortly."

"Yeah. Soon." She turned the ignition key and the car purred to life. Then paused, remembered her other obligations and put in a call to Captain Chavez.

* * *

"Target acquired. Gargoyle on the wing."

"What direction?" Jezabella hissed eagerly into the headset. She'd been waiting half the night for a report from Anton's lookout and tension radiated from her in waves. Even Danny, who'd been hanging close like an overanxious puppy, stepped back to give her room.

"Toward the park. She's vectoring perfectly for Scenario 3."

Jezabella grinned, eager for the hunt. "E.T.A."

"She'll be in position in ten."

"You heard the man," she hissed at the assorted halflings and stooges. "Saddle up." She turned to Danny still hovering on the edges. "Are you ready?"

The teen nodded uncertainly. "I guess so." He straightened and pushed his bangs out of his face. "I mean, yeah, let's take her down."

"Good boy," Jezabella crooned. She tousled his hair affectionately. "Remember I'm counting on you." She pushed the boy eagerly toward the van and together they roared off into the diminishing night.

* * *

Goliath followed from a safe distance as Elisa had instructed. It went against his every instinct. He longed throw himself into the tumultuous winds that buffeted his wings, find the swiftest current and intercept Angela, forcing her to the ground, so that he could wring the truth from her. His daughter, the child he had learned to accept as his own flesh and blood and love above all others, stood doubly accused by both their benefactor and the human authorities. Her actions seemed so contrary, so out of her character. Goliath could not fathom any of it. "Why?" looped through his brain endlessly and he had no answer. Was she being coerced? Was she under some kind of evil spell? Only Angela knew, and she was gliding serenely ahead of him as if she hadn't a care in the world.

They were approaching Central Park. The rain had passed and the storm he'd endured while waiting for Angela to leave Destine Manor moved northward. In the distance lightning continued to strike, cutting blazes across the skyline. A bright flash and pop from a cell lagging behind the rest tore through the night, momentarily blinding Goliath. He blinked hard, fighting to compensate. When he looked up again Angela was no longer gliding toward the castle. She had furled her wings and was blazing down toward the park like a fury.

Goliath reacted, setting his own wings to shadow her course at a slightly slower momentum. If he wished to remain unseen he would have to land a distance away and track on foot. He spotted a clearing and made for land.

* * *

Angela dove toward the ground, down toward the flash of bright green light and the all too common sound of a human screaming in terror. She scanned the earth below. "There!" Three people in dark masks surrounded a forth who coward low to the ground. Angela snarled, her eyes glowing red with fury as she bowled over the tall heavy set human whose features were obscured by mask and gloves but whose testosterone heavy scent marked him as male.

The man went down and she lashed at a second attacker with her tail. His knees went out from under him and he landed with a thump on the wet grass. Angela gave the third assailant a fanged grin and she turned and ran into the thick copse of trees that surrounded the clearing. The gargoyle dismissed the woman from her mind as she turned her attention to the victim. A half grown boy lay at her feet, cowering. Angela offered him her hand. He reached up hesitantly and for the first time his face came out of the shadows.

"Danny?" Angela cried softly in joyful recognition, just as the rock came down hard on the back of her head.

* * * * *

__

To be continued…


	2. Part 2

****

Home is a Dark Place, Part 2

Written by: Madame Destine  
Email: m_destine@hotmail.com

****

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters belong to their various creators: Buena Vista Television / The Walt Disney Company and The Gargoyles Saga, and they are used without their express knowledge or consent.

__

Previously…

"Danny?" Angela cried softly in joyful recognition, just as the rock came down hard on the back of her head.

* * * * *

Goliath stalked silently through the trees, moving as quietly as a cat over the wet grass. He ignored the persistent drip of rain off the chestnut trees, the calls of the night birds hunting for choice morsels revealed by the passing storm, and concentrated on his own prey. There were humans up ahead and the murmur of a gargoyle's … Angela's voice.

An engine droned somewhere close by, rapidly becoming softer. Goliath ignored that too. He smelled gargoyle blood.

He burst into the clearing. Angela lay sprawled on the grass. Goliath knelt over his daughter and ran his talons over her face and neck looking for the source of the blood scent. The back of her head was sticky from a tear in her scalp. It didn't seem too serious.

Angela moaned and struggled to sit up. "Father?" she murmured. "What are you doing here?"

"Never mind that." He helped his daughter to her feet. She seemed steady. "What happened?" The gargoyle scanned the area, scented the air. They were alone.

"Mugging," his daughter replied. "I broke it up." She surveyed the area as well. "I guess the victim didn't hang around either." Angela sounded faintly bitter.

"Perhaps he was not entirely innocent." Goliath countered. "This is hardly the place for a law abiding citizen to be so late at night."

"You're probably right."

Goliath glanced skyward. Dawn would be approaching a few hours and they still had much to discuss. "Can you glide?"

Angela nodded, grimacing as she found the sore spot on the back of her head. "I'm fine. Can we please go home now?" She sounded impatient and tired. "It's been a long night."

Goliath watched as Angela climbed a nearby tree and leapt from its branches skyward. He satisfied himself that she was flight worthy, noting how despite her injury she expertly caught an updraft and banked, setting a castle-bound heading. She'd been injured helping a human, not engaging in some nefarious scheme. Goliath felt a tingle of vindication. Though Angela might be guilty of the acts she'd been accused he no longer had any doubts she was anything but an innocent pawn.

* * *

Danny ran, ignoring the stitch in his side, ignoring the wet branches that slapped his face as he pelted pell-mell through the darkened woods. He'd heal. Even as he crossed the park the cuts on his face were already knitting and smoothing, courtesy of his partially fay genetics. When he came to a clearing five miles from Scenario 3, he halted, hunkering behind a bench in a bus shelter, listening for signs he'd been followed. He heard nothing. He squeezed his eyes shut forcing his senses outward, but all he could see was the insane glitter in Jezabella's eyes as she brought the rock downward towards Angela's skull.

* * * * *

Jezabella's blood sang in her ears in time with the throbbing of her skull. Thank the dragon, she reflected, Anton's watcher had stayed in position and spotted Goliath as Angela left Destine Manor. Though it did seem odd, in retrospect, that he seemed to be tracking his precious favorite child and not gliding at her wing side.

No matter. It had all worked out in the end and his sudden appearance in the clearing, though it had the unfortunate consequence of postponing her long awaited reunion with her dear sister, did have the advantage of adding an element of verisimilitude that Jezabella couldn't have scripted had she had months to prepare.

He was still following close enough she could feel his worry. Jezabella canted slightly to the left as if she had overcompensated for a shift in the wind. "I'm fine," she called out before Goliath had time to tighten their ranks even closer. She held her hand to her head. "I'm just a little dizzy."

Now there was an understatement. Somehow little Danny had overcome his resistance to hurting her and in the processes overcompensated. The rock he'd wielded had come down hard enough to make her see stars. Still, she had no doubt that the injury the boy had inflicted was much less serious than if Candy or one of her little friends had done the honors. She could endure a few hours of headache if it bought her credibility at the castle.

Speaking of which, Castle Wyvern, perched high over Manhattan, burst into view. Jezabella couldn't help the lump that choked her throat or the tears that misted her eyes. She blinked hard and dashed the back of her hand across her face. "Stop being stupid," the gargoyle hissed to herself. "It's just a building. Just a place. It means nothing." And yet it meant everything. It wasn't just a pile of stones. It was home. Her home. The one from which she'd been wrongfully barred. It was time. Time to go home. Jezabella spiraled downward toward the courtyard.

She closed her eyes and savored the feeling of the wet flagstones that met her feet. They were still smooth and moss still grew in the cracks between them. Jezabella opened her eyes catching herself before she gave into the urge to pirouette in delight. She reared back in surprise. A strange dark-haired human woman, clad in blue jeans and a red bomber jacket, was standing in front of her, arms crossed over her chest. No. Not a stranger, Jezabella realized. Her hand crept to the spot behind her ear where Danny's rock had cracked her skull. "Elisa." The human woman who had helped drive her from the clan.

"Yeah, it's me, Angela. Are you all right?" The irritated scowl gave way to a frown of concern. Jezabella fought the urge to bare her teeth as Elisa touched her arm.

Goliath touched down a few yards away and hurried to join the pair. "She was attacked," he stated without preamble. "We must get her inside and tend to her injury."

"Attacked. When?" Elisa was forced to step aside as Goliath put a protective arm around his daughter and herded her into the castle. "Goliath. Wait!"

"Well, that was interesting." Matt stepped out of the shadows. Rain had dampened his overcoat but not soaked it. "Care to fill me in?"

Elisa pivoted, her attention torn between the injured Angela and her partner. She threw up her hands in confusion. "I would if I could. All I know is Angela left Destine Manor with Goliath on her tail. I phoned you and came here."

"Then I guess we get the rest of the story inside." He loosened his coat. Elisa noticed he sported a bulge under his armpit that resembled her own. A taser. Matt's not so subtle reminder that they were still on police business.

Elisa nodded. Message received. "Yeah. Come on. Let's go." She followed behind Matt as he buttoned his coat and sauntered into the castle.

* * *

"Sit here, Angela." Goliath gently pushed Jezabella down onto the common room bench. "I will get a first aid kit and clean that wound."

Jezabella had to admit it felt good to sit down, even for a moment. The glide back to the castle had taken more out of her then she cared to admit. "I'm sure it's nothing, father. Please don't concern yourself."

Elisa and a redheaded human male entered neatly on Goliath's exit. Despite the damp appearance of their outer garments neither moved to discard them. Elisa demonstrated familiarity with the gargoyles' living quarters, Jezabella noted, as the human woman opened the door to a large pantry, stepped inside briefly and reemerged with a couple of bath towels.

She offered one to the injured gargoyle and Jezabella did her best to smile her thanks as she thought Angela might before blotting gingerly at her face and clothing, using the opportunity to study Elisa's companion more closely. He lounged casually enough, but his eyes remained alert and Jezabella pegged him for a cop. He must be Elisa's partner, she surmised. And he knows about the clan. That wasn't in Ling's notes. One more strike against the doctor. Goliath reappeared and Jezabella shoved Ling out of her thoughts.

"Goliath," Elisa handed the gargoyle leader a towel. "You're dripping on the floor." Her earlier pleasant thoughts took a back seat to duty as the detective took possession of the first aid kit, snapped it open and removed antiseptic and gauze pads. "Go dry off and change. I'll take care of this."

"Elisa, I would rather-"

"Go on." She pulled his head downward so that she could whisper in his ear. "I promise you we won't discuss anything with her until you get back." Elisa released the gargoyle and gave him a gentle push toward the living quarters. He, in turn, gave Jezabella a reluctant glance and then complied, rubbing the towel over his head and chest.

Elisa sighed and turned to her partner. "Matt, would you put the kettle on? I think we could all use some tea."

"Yes, mom," Matt traded a bemused glance with Goliath and busied himself at the stove. When seven feet of burly gargoyle had disappeared out of hearing range Elisa's partner smirked. Off of Elisa's irritated glance he said, "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"It just never ceases to amaze me how domesticated Goliath is around you."

Elisa gave her partner a scandalized glance. "He is not!" Then her expression softened as she admitted, "Okay, maybe a little domesticated. Besides when did it become a crime for a woman to show a little concern for her mate?"

Jezabella jerked. "Ow!" she yelped to cover her surprise. His mate? Elisa was Goliath's mate? When had that happened?

"I'm sorry," Elisa apologized. She had snapped on a pair of rubber gloves and was probing gently at the cut. "It's not too bad. I'll clean it and put a couple of butterfly strips on to hold it closed but a day of stone sleep should heal that puppy right up." Two fingers appeared suddenly in Jezabella's vision. "How many?"

Jezabella hesitated. If she lied and said four, maybe they'd leave her alone long enough to settle in. On the other hand, they might pack her off to spend the rest of the night in the infirmary. "Two." She gave the fingers an affectionate squeeze. "I'm fine, Elisa. I have a headache and I'm tired. It was a long night before the mugging. So if you'll excuse me, I 'd like to wash the blood out of my hair and call it a night."

Elisa took a seat next to Jezabella on the bench. "Yeah, Ang, I know. But something's come up and we need to talk."

* * *

Goliath pulled the coarse bristles of the brush through long sable hair still damp from rain. He felt better. Angela was back within the confines of the castle. All that remained was to straighten out the confusion that his daughter had become enmeshed in.

He stepped out into the corridor and blinked. Ptah of the Egyptian clan was striding down the hallway towards him. "Elder Ptah, what are you doing here?"

The elder gargoyle bowed. "Goliath. I am honored to meet you at last. I was wondering if I might beg a few moments of your time."

Goliath was nearly successful in suppressing his growl of irritation. "Now is not a good time, Elder. Perhaps tomorrow."

Ptah followed at his shoulder as Goliath strode long angry steps back toward the common room. "Of course," he ventured into the silence. "Your time is a precious commodity. But I only need a little of it, to ask your permission."

"My permission for what?"

Ptah took a couple of fast strides blocking Goliath's path. "I wish to speak to your daughter. In person."

"That matter is closed." Goliath pivoted around the older gargoyle and walked into the common room. "In any case, Angela was injured a short time ago. She is in no condition to speak to you tonight."

"Father?" Jezabella stared curiously at the new arrival. There was nothing in the castle dossier about a horned serpentine gargoyle.

"Elder Ptah from Egypt. He has come to press his case for the egg exchange in person."

Elisa looked up from her tea in surprise. "Matt, maybe you should check in with the captain."

The lanky redhead set down his cup and unfolded gracefully from the chair. "I'll be outside."

"Egg. My egg?" Another surprise. Another shock. Angela and Broadway had produced an egg and they were under pressure to engage in some kind of cultural swap. "I don't know."

Elisa touched her arm. "You don't need to worry about that tonight." She gave Ptah a meaningful look, warning him to back off. "Come on. I'll walk you up to your room." The bench scraped against stone floor as the two females rose. Tension radiated off Elisa and Goliath's tail was flicking against the ground, signaling his own agitation.

Ptah raised a hand in supplication. "I can see that perhaps my entreaty was premature. Tomorrow, perhaps, when you are feeling more yourself we can discuss the matter further."

Jezabella gave the elder an uncertain nod. Elisa placed a protective arm around her shoulders and was preparing to escort her out when Lexington sauntered in, a laptop computer underneath one winged arm. Word had evidently gotten around the castle. His lamp-like eyes narrowed at the sight of Ptah, but he gave the old gargoyle a cursory bow before turning his attention to Jezabella. "I saw Matt out in the hallway, are you okay?"

Jezabella scowled. "I wish everyone would quit asking me that. I'm fine. I just need a few minutes to get cleaned up."

"I was just going to take Angela up to her room," Elisa added. Then to Jezabella, "But after that, if you're feeling up to it, we need to talk. Something else has come up."

"I'll take her," Lexington offered. "Come on, Angela. Just promise me you won't faint before we get to the top of the stairs." He gave her a friendly grin and extended the arm not holding the laptop.

"Thanks." Jezabella smiled warmly at Lexington. (Turn ons: video games, anything involving computers and lately a hybrid human/gargoyle clone named Delilah. Turn offs: doctors and leafy green vegetables.) "I'll just be a few minutes, Elisa."

The pair exited the common room, passing Matt lounging in the hallway, a cell phone plastered to one ear. He was nodding and uttering monosyllabic responses, his face pinched in annoyance with whoever spoke at the other end of the connection. Lexington gave the detective a grin which he quickly dropped as soon as they were cleanly passed. "Where have you been?" he hissed at Jezabella, I've been trying to get a hold of you all night long!"

"You mean after the Met?" Jezabella replied. "Don't ask. Why? What's so important?"

"Sector 13. It's a total wash. I was able to get into the system, but Xanatos has got everything locked down tight. I was able to extract some information, but it had to do with the repair costs and I only got that because some manager in accounting didn't think the cost of cement was important enough to triple encrypt."

Jezabella's head began to throb more intensely. The night had turned into a disaster and it seemed like she had miles to go before it truly hit bottom. "So you're saying-" she let the sentence hang, hoping her frog-like companion would fill in the blank and confirm her worst suspicions.

"No records. No codes. Zip. Zilch. Nada," Lexington whispered. "Xanatos has covered his tracks. The only way we might get into the Sector 13 files is if you were to sneak back down there and access one of the facility computers directly."

"Wonderful." Jezabella stalked up the long flight of stairs that led to Angela and Broadway's private domain. "Well that's not gonna happen tonight." She turned to Lexington. "Thanks." Obviously, accessing Sector 13 was as important to Angela as it was to Jezabella so she made no attempt to hide her bitter disappointment. "I'm sure you did all you could. Now if you'll excuse me?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm sorry, Angela," Lexington shrugged helplessly. "I really did try."

"I'm sure you did." Jezabella said as she slammed the heavy oak door in Lexington's face. She glanced around the room. Shelves lined the walls. Books, hardbound, old looking and probably in Latin, competed with other volumes of more contemporary vintage. Armchairs, a dressing table and wardrobe, but no bed, took up the rest of the space. A pair of doors. A cursory glance confirmed that one led to a bathroom and the other to what was certainly Angela's workroom. It smelled strongly of herbs and creosote. Jezabella wrinkled her nose at the pungent odors and retreated back into the sitting room.

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" she seethed. "Nothing tonight has gone right! The screw up at the Met, Ling's lousy intel, Sector 13 is Angela's private playground, and Elisa's got nothing better to do than hang around the castle for a friendly little chat on the taxpayer's dime."

She sunk into a wing-backed chair that had been surreptitiously reinforced for Broadway's bulky frame and let her head fall forwards into her hands. "And to top it all off, I've got the mother of all headaches. I'm gonna wring Danny's scrawny neck when I get a hold of him. Lousy little science lab reject."

Jezabella straightened and pushed long strands of dark hair away from her face. "I'm outta here. I'm going back to Anton, have a bath…" She glanced down at Angela's hated tunic. "…change into some decent clothes and have a nice little chat with my darling sister. Then maybe I can salvage this train wreck."

Smiling with anticipation at her long awaited reunion with Angela, Jezabella leapt out of the window and let an updraft carry her swiftly away from the castle.

* * *

"Now, Elisa," Matt said as he reentered the common room.

"Now what?" She barely acknowledged Matt. Instead her attention was focused on Goliath and Ptah. The gargoyle elder was still making apologies and Goliath was evidently trying to tell the horned gargoyle to take a hike without sounding offensive about it.

"We have to leave now. The captain said if we're not back at the precinct in twenty minutes she's sending uniforms and S.W.A.T. I guess the riot earlier this evening has flipped somebody's switch. The mayor isn't willing to kid glove the situation anymore. Angela goes in for questioning just like any other suspect."

Matt had everyone's attention. Goliath pivoted away from Ptah, instantly forgetting the gargoyle elder. "This is wrong. Angela was injured tonight breaking up a mugging. Surely that must count for something."

The detective held his palm out in a defensive gesture. "It's not my decision. Or Elisa's," he added cutting off Goliath's plea and staring down his partner before she could add her two cents. "We're lucky the captain cut her this much slack. Let's just get her down to the station and get this over with."

Elisa gave her mate a resigned pat on the arm. "I'll go get her. Matt, you better come too. We haven't got much time before sunrise."

"I will come as well," Goliath stated. He shrugged off Elisa's consoling hand and exited as swiftly as he'd entered. The two detectives fell in behind him, leaving Ptah to wonder at the strange situation he'd encountered.

* * *

"Angela? Angela, open up. It's Elisa," the detective added unnecessarily.

The trip through the castle and up the flight of stairs had been made in near silence. Goliath had given up entreaties on behalf of his daughter, knowing they would fall on deaf ears. Elisa had made it plain to him long ago that when it came to police business she could only protect the clan up to a certain point, and whatever they suspected Angela of being involved in had crossed far over that imaginary line.

There had been a tense moment when Matt exposed a set of heavy duty restraints, shifting them from the recesses of his overcoat into a more accessible front pocket. Goliath had growled and his eyes flashed white. Elisa had asked again if perhaps he'd rather stay behind, but to his credit, the clan leader had backed off and apologized for his behavior.

There was no sound from behind the door. Elisa knocked again. "Angela?"

"Step aside," Goliath growled. "Angela, open this door."

No response. Goliath gave the two detectives a resigned look. They pulled their tasers and the gargoyle forced the heavy oak door. Iron hinges squealed in protest as the lock gave way.

Elisa and Matt darted into the room crouched low, fanning the room with their weapons. They exchanged hand signals and Matt zigzagged deep and over, checking the bathroom and study for the missing gargoyle.

"It's clear."

"Clear," Elisa echoed as she jerked open the mahogany wardrobe and looked inside. "She's gone."

"Gone! No she can't be!" Shock and hurt made Goliath's baritone climb up an octave.

Elisa glanced out the open window. "I'm sorry, big guy, she gave us the slip. That scene in the park must have been a setup to throw us off." She gave Matt a disgusted look. "It worked too."

Matt looked at the distraught gargoyle. Goliath stood in the center of the room staring blankly toward the window. He shifted his glance to Elisa and exchanged a wordless glance of sympathy. "I'll call it in."

* * * * *

Sevarius held a test tube up to the light and slowly swirled it, watching as the contents changed from clear to pink. "How intriguing," he mused aloud. "Someone's been keeping herself busy, hasn't she?"

"Having fun, doctor?"

Sevarius looked up at the sound of the familiar voice. "Jezebella." The clone stood in the doorway, her wings caped low about her shoulders. The look on her face spoke of exhaustion coupled with annoyance, and immediately his brow furrowed in concern. Had something else gone wrong? His lookouts had confirmed that she'd made it to the castle before he'd recalled them to base. Carefully, he placed the test tube into a rack beside the first sample whose results it had just confirmed. "I wasn't expecting you back here tonight. Is everything all right?"

"Yes… and no," Jezebella sighed. The glide back had given her some time to organize her thoughts, but the cool early-morning air had done only a little to ease the throbbing in the back of her head. She stepped into the room, crossing to the cabinet where the doctor kept the pain pills. "I'm in at the castle," she said as the man came up beside her. "It's just that things back home are a bit more complicated than I thought they'd be." Unable to find a glass for water, she tipped two of the tablets out of the bottle into her hand then gulped them down dry.

"You've been injured," Sevarius said, making note of the bandage on the girl's neck. 

Jezebella grimaced and sucked her teeth to rid her mouth of the medicine taste. "Part of the act," she replied. "I asked Danny to whack me… but he went a little overboard."

Sevarius put a hand on her shoulder, stilling her as he pushed her ponytail to one side and examined the wound closer. "You're lucky, Jezebella. This could have been much worse. That boy never completed his training, and he doesn't know his own strength."

"Yeah. I plan to have a little chat with him later." She winced as Sevarius touched at the wound but did not pull away.

"Hmm. An adequate attempt at first aid. The cut seems superficial. If you want, I can put some topical anesthetic on it, but otherwise I think you'll live 'til sunrise."

Jezebella gave a half smirk. "Elisa gave the same diagnosis." She turned around, brushing the hair from her eyes as she did. "I'll be fine, doctor. I've suffered worse pains than this little scrape."

Sevarius nodded in assent. "So you've had a chance to reacquaint yourself with some of the clan after all." He smiled. "Tell me, Jezebella, how is the lovely Detective Maza doing these days?"

"Quite well, I imagine." The girl's expression turned dark. "Seeing as she's mated to my father now."

"Mated?" Sevarius raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Fascinating. I always could tell there was some kind of attraction, but to take the step to having sexual relations… my, my, I wonder which one initiated the first encounter."

Jezebella scowled. "I'd prefer _not_ to think about it, if you don't mind," she muttered. "What I _would_ like to know, though, is why this little piece of trivia wasn't in the files Dr. Ling got for me." She growled irritably. "The whole point of getting those files from Xanatos was for me to avoid surprises. It would have been bad enough if that had been the only one," she said, her eyes flaring briefly red, "but it wasn't."

Sevarius had returned to his work counter. He picked up one of the test tubes again, eyeing it critically. "Let me guess," he said. "You found out that your sister has recently laid herself an egg." The way the clone's eyes narrowed told him he'd guessed correctly. "I just learned the happy news myself. Congratulations, my dear. You're going to be an aunt."

Jezebella swiped the glass tube from his hand and brought it to eye level. "I thought I said no one was to touch her except for _me_, doctor." 

"Relax, my dear. I was only running a few simple tests. The blood sample came from her wound." He took the girl by her elbow spur, turning her toward the long wall of plate glass that separated the laboratory proper from the examination room. "No one has laid a finger on her since she returned except for me and Lilith, and I can assure you our intentions have been purely professional."

A smile tugged at the corners of Jezebella's mouth as she caught sight of her sister. Angela lay reclined on the thinly padded examination table, eyes closed as if peacefully dozing. She was nude, having been stripped of both her tunic and her jewelry, and thick padded cuffs of tanned leather encircled her wrists and ankles, ready to keep her restrained should she awaken. Similar straps of the same construction encircled her at the waist and neck, ensuring her immobility. Focused on her twin's head was the dome-shaped business end of one of the scanning devices she and the halfings had procured in one of their nighttime missions over a month before. Nearby, the dark-haired Dr. Ling, clad in her familiar white lab coat, stood with clipboard in hand, taking readings off a bank of monitors.

"You two are a matched set tonight as far as head wounds go," Sevarius stated. "After I bandaged up the rather nasty laceration on the back of her skull, I asked my colleague to run a few scans just to be sure there was no internal damage. As you know, some of the equipment is quite sensitive, so it was necessary to undress her to minimize the potential for interference." 

"Of course, doctor." A small shiver ran down the membranes of Jezebella's wings. She had undergone countless check-ups and physicals during the long course of her recovery, and spent much time herself trying to lie still on that same examination table, naked as the day she was hatched. The medical restraints, though, were an indignity she had never suffered. Those had been added only recently. They'd been designed to be strong enough to restrain a mature halfling. She had no doubt they could just as easily hold a gargoyle.

Sevarius pressed the intercom button on the wall. "How is our patient doing, doctor?"

Dr. Ling looked up, taking notice for the first time of the pair who were watching her work. She hadn't expected to see Jezebella, and it took her a moment to answer. "No permanent damage, as near as I can tell." Her voice sounded faintly metallic through the tiny speaker. "Miss Angela here got clocked in the head pretty hard, but brainwave activity still looks strong." She glanced at the display of a digital oscilloscope, where a zigzag line danced, tracing sharp peaks and valleys. "Right now, I'd guess from the readings that she's in the midst of having a very vivid dream. Which would imply that the anesthesia is starting to wear off." She made a quick note on her clipboard. "She'll probably be awake in another hour or so."

"Excellent," Sevarius replied. "Prognosis?"

Dr. Ling glanced at her notes, stifling a yawn. "Mm, excuse me. It's been a long night. It looks good to me, Anton. If she were human, she'd definitely have a few days of bed rest ahead of her to recover from an acute concussion. But given that she's gargoyle, I expect she'll be as good as new come sunset tonight." 

"Thank you, Lilith."

"You're welcome." She yawned again, this time unable to stop it from coming, and checked the clock that hung on the far wall. "May I go home now?"

"Soon, doctor." Jezebella smiled, her eyes never having left the prone, nude form of her dear beloved sister. The painkillers were starting to kick in, and her headache was fading. Dr. Ling was here now, true, but the oversights in her research on the clan could be taken up with the woman at a later time. A reunion with Angela was long overdue, and promised to be a much more pleasant diversion to end the night. "Show my sister to her new room and get her tucked in," Jezebella instructed. "Then you may go."

Dr. Ling glanced to Sevarius for confirmation, and he nodded. "I'll assist you momentarily, Lilith," he said. He released the intercom button and turned to his favorite clone. "Shall we return her regular clothes to her, or do you have something else in mind?" he asked.

"Send everything she was wearing to my quarters," Jezebella replied. "The chains alone will do fine for now." She flashed a fanged grin. "I want my sister to learn what it's like to be have something precious stolen away, and if she's still as I remember her, I know she values her modesty almost as much as her freedom."

"As you wish, my dear." Sevarius chuckled and glanced back through the glass at the slumbering gargoyle in the adjoining room. "She won't be happy when she wakes up."

Angela's double glanced back over her shoulder as she turned to leave. "I know," she said sweetly. "That's the idea."

* * * * *

Jezebella slipped the final gold bangle over her wrist and checked herself in the mirror one last time. Seeing Angela helpless and bound to that examination table down in the lab had lifted her spirits after a long night of near disasters. A shower and a change of clothing had done further wonders to improve her mood. After washing off the grime from the park, she'd put her hair back into the wild, upswept style she preferred, then donned a halter and loincloth ensemble of deep burgundy silk and a half dozen pieces of favorite jewelry. Jezebella smiled as she smoothed a rebellious strand of hair back into place behind a delicately tapered ear. Even with that cut on the back of her neck still stinging slightly from the herbal shampoo, she felt like a million bucks.

"There's no doubt about it," she said, addressing her reflection. "The clothes _do_ make the gargoyle." She crossed the modestly sized room she had been calling home ever since her release from the incubation chamber Sevarius had used to heal her, moving to the bed she still kept there for the times when the lingering physical and emotional pains were so great that only a good long nap, sometimes huddled with a pillow to absorb the tears, did the trick. A small bundle waited for her, delivered while she showered. Angela's clothes. She picked up the tunic, eyeing it with disdain. It had been laundered, she noted. The stains of mud and grass from the park were gone, and sniffing the air she could pick up the faint scent of fabric softener. She rubbed the well-worn fabric between her talons, finding it moderately softer than that of the replica version she had discarded into the hamper a short while ago. 

"I'll keep this for when I go back to the castle tonight," she decided. "All of it," she added, surveying the few pieces of gold jewelry. "I might as well go for complete authenticity." She tossed the tunic back onto the mattress as she took a quick inventory of the items. A hand-tooled leather belt with a polished brass buckle, a pair of hoop earrings, a bracelet, and… 

"Hmm, what's this now?" She picked up the ornately carved hair ornament, turning it in her talons as she examined it. Such a daringly stylish piece… that alone made it seem out of character for her sister. Jezebella didn't have a replica of this as part of her costume. Evidently another small detail had been overlooked, which made it a lucky find. "I wonder if this has some sentimental value," she mused. "Only one way to find out, I suppose." Smiling, she slipped the ornament into her own hair, tucking it into place just above her right ear as she turned and stepped to the small desk that sat on the wall opposite the bed. 

The touch of a talon tip on the keyboard brought her computer workstation out of hibernation, and another series of keystrokes took her into the security system and brought up a menu of available camera feeds. There was only one she was interested in. Jezebella highlighted and clicked, and a split second later she was looking at the direct feed from the camera focused on a tiny holding cell. "Damn," she muttered, eyeing the motionless image. Angela was still out cold. She'd have to wait a little while longer.

* * *

Jezebella strode through the corridors of the area that made up the halflings' living quarters, growing more annoyed with every step. To kill the time while Angela finished sleeping off her anesthesia, she'd decided to have that little chat with Danny. Trouble was, she hadn't been able to find him anywhere. She'd checked his room first, but she'd seen no signs that he'd been there since she had fetched him to go with her to meet up with the team watching Destine Manor. She'd gone back to the lab next, wondering if perhaps Dr. Ling had already acted on her desire to have a "test subject," but there was no sign of him there, either. Dr. Ling had turned out the lights gone home, and Sevarius had retreated to his office to review his notes before he called it a night himself. "I haven't seen him," had been his answer when she poked her head in his door and inquired, "but I'm sure he's around somewhere. Why don't you check with the others?"

She lashed her tail with frustration. Word of Candy and Jake's latest screw up had evidently traveled fast among the small population of halflings and hired muscle her foster father had recruited, most likely along with rumors of how she intended to seek retribution. Everyone she'd encountered so far had been hesitant and stand-offish, fearful of offending her and able to offer little help. Under any other circumstances, she would have been enjoying the new aura of reverence and respect she projected, but right now she just wanted to a straight answer that would lead her to Danny.

She paused just outside the doorway to a common area, listening to the voices coming from within. The television was on, but several halflings were talking, as well. A female voice in particular stood out above the others. "I'm telling you, that's what I heard. They had her trussed up just like a Christmas present. Dragged her in kicking and screaming. Candy had even put one of those freaky bondage gags on her. I don't blame her for being pissed."

"Your concern for my well-being is appreciated." Jezebella stepped into the open doorway, her appearance on the scene instantly quieting the conversation between the three young halflings who lounged on the couch. Two were male, both looking to be in their early twenties. The female she had heard talking appeared slightly younger, perhaps eighteen or nineteen. Briefly, Jezebella wondered if their ages had been why Sevarius had designated them the third string team, below Candy, Jake, and the others. "You three were at the park," she said. "I was wondering if you've seen the boy I'd brought with me. Danny. Do you know where he went after you came back?"

The trio of halflings traded looks of confusion. "Was that his name? I never had a chance to ask," the girl replied. "He was cute. I was going to see if he wanted to catch a late movie but for some reason he took off right after he tagged you."

Jezebella frowned, a knot already forming in her stomach. "What do you mean?"

"Took off is right. Shoot, girl, I ain't never _seen_ nobody beat their feet that fast," the taller of the two young men supplied. He had a southern drawl which hinted that he, like Danny, had not always called Manhattan home. He turned his gaze to Jezebella pointedly. "You ever seen that movie _Forest Gump_? Y'know, that part where'n he just up and started runnin', for no gosh-danged reason at all? Well, it was sorta like that."

"Yo, J.Z., straight up, I saw the whole thing." The other young man sat up, suddenly eager to add his two cents. His dark hair was cropped in an angular, flat-topped style, and his speech marked him as a refugee from the inner city. "That little white boy, he was movin' like a cheetah on crack. I mean _gone_, you know what I'm sayin'?" He toned down his enthusiasm as he realized the lavender gargoyle didn't appear to be amused by the analogy. "'Course, we woulda tried to stop him but, you know, we kinda had our hands full with that other gargoyle," he added quickly.

"I'm sure you did. Thank you for the help." Jezebella turned, leaving before she had a chance to act on the sudden and irrational urge to strangle them all. Inside, she was seething, but taking her anger out on those three would solve nothing. They had done the job assigned to them, seeing Angela back to her new home, and getting her out of sight before Goliath had arrived on the scene. It was Danny, evidently, who had deviated from instructions. But why would he bail on her? It made no sense. Unless…

"Crap," she muttered. "The little son of a bitch must have recognized her." Jezebella fumed as she paced the hallway, contemplating the problem she was now faced with. Somewhere out roaming the city there was a penniless teenage halfling with the ability to totally blow her cover. She'd have to find him, and find him fast, before he could get to the clan. But how? She didn't even need to look at a clock to know what her gargoyle's sixth sense was already telling her; sunrise was rapidly approaching, and soon she'd be sleeping in stone. "Damn it all," she grumbled. Danny already had a two-hour head start. She couldn't risk giving him almost fourteen hours more. No. That was unacceptable. Someone else would have to hunt him down while she slept. Someone else would have to spend all day out in the hot summer sun walking the pavement, searching the city until the boy was found. But who among Sevarius' recruits would be up for such an unpleasant, nearly impossible task? Who among them owed her big time? A small smile came to Jezebella's lips. "I think I know just the halfling for the job."

* * *

Angela sat up slowly, shaking her head to clear away the lingering grogginess. Her sleep had been restless, filled with strange dreams, and she'd awoken to a dull headache and a dry, fuzzy mouth. "Ugh. Where am I?" she muttered. The young female blinked her eyes, peering into the gray dimness that surrounded her, and sniffed the air. It was cool and dank, filled with scent of earth and mildew. The ground beneath her was hard and slightly damp. She scraped her talons lightly over the dusty concrete, contemplating these first few hints that told her that she wasn't back at the castle. The rattling of chains as she tried to rise further provided the next clue. 

Angela stared down at her hands, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of her stomach as she stared at the heavy manacles locked tight about her wrists. They were joined by a short, stout length of chain that was itself joined by a heavy padlock to another loop of chain cinched about her waist. The chains jangled almost musically as she gave an experimental tug, confirming only what she inherently already knew. They'd been made heavy for a reason. They'd been designed to hold a gargoyle. She raised her hands as high as the joining chain allowed, noting as she examined the thick steel cuffs more closely how well they conformed to the size and contours of her wrists. They fit her perfectly. Too perfectly, she realized, shuddering. They'd been designed for a gargoyle, all right, but not just any gargoyle. They'd been designed for _her_. 

Her stomach knotted as memories of the last few seconds in the park began to come back her. That hadn't been a mugging at all. It had been a trap, and she had walked right into it. Inwardly, she cursed herself being so stupid. She'd dove right in without even considering for a second that she should first radio for backup. What had she been thinking? An icy chill ran down her back as she realized the clan might not even be aware yet that she was in trouble. They'd turn to stone assuming she was simply spending the day at Destine Manor, while Demona would go about her day believing she had returned safely to the Eyrie. No one would have any reason to suspect that she'd been ambushed and kidnapped.

But who had kidnapped her, and why? Angela perked up her ears, thinking she'd heard a noise. "Who's there?" she called, her heart racing. She could make out the bars that formed the front wall of her cell, but beyond them she could see only shadows. Faces of past enemies and adversaries flickered in her mind's eye as she fought to compile a mental list of possible answers to the "who" question. The surviving members of The Pack were in prison; Thailog was dead; and Maeve, who she feared most of all, was safely locked away for an eternity courtesy of Queen Titania. As she waited anxiously for a voice, any voice, to answer back, though, she found that knowledge was only slightly comforting. Being in the public eye had earned her a new set of enemies. Faceless people who hid behind anonymous letters and phony e-mail addresses. Fox had counseled her to ignore the hate letters and the occasional correspondence from oddball fans who wanted more than just an autographed photo. "This kind of thing goes with the territory, Ang," she had said. "You can't take every letter personally." She'd taken Fox at her word, but she had to wonder now if accepting that advice at face value had truly been prudent. She sniffed the air again. She had heard no further sound beyond that of her own breathing, and she could smell nothing unfamiliar, either. Angela sighed. For the moment at least, it seemed, she would have to suffer the hellish torment of not knowing who her abductor was. 

Whoever her kidnappers were, they'd taken great pains to ensure she would not escape before they returned. The front wall of her tiny, unfurnished 8'x8' cell was barred, while the other three walls, the ceiling, and the floor were seamless concrete. The confinement almost seemed redundant, though, combined with her bondage. Gradually, she became cognizant of the full extent of it as she struggled to a more comfortable kneeling position. Another set of steel shackles, locked about her ankles and fitting as snugly as the ones on her wrists, hobbled her, joined by a mere two-foot length of connecting chain. Two more loops of the same strong chain were wrapped tight about her chest, one just below her breasts and the other tucked beneath her arms, holding her wings pinned uselessly against her back. The steel links were cold against her bare skin. She wasn't just bound, she realized, she was naked, too. As she replayed the images from the park in her mind, though, searching for clues as to who was responsible for her captivity, the significance of that fact seemed to momentarily evaporate. 

"Danny," she whispered. He'd been there, too, in the park. As the muzziness cleared from her head, she recalled how she'd seen him just seconds before she'd seen stars. But where was he now? A new set of questions formed in her mind faster than she could postulate answers for them. Had he been an active participant in the trap? That possibility seemed too much to fathom. They had become friends. Why would he turn on her? He had to have been forced to do it… kidnapped himself and used as the bait to reel her in… that was the only thing that made sense. Or rather, that was the only thing she wanted to believe made sense. Angela slumped onto her haunches miserably, suddenly unconcerned with her own predicament as she worried over what had become of her newest friend.

As the aching in Angela's head slowly faded, those last few moments of alertness became clearer and clearer in her mind. Seeing Danny alive after fearing the worst for over a week had sent her heart leaping. She had been ready to grab him and hug him, to reassure herself that he was okay, when something heavy and dull had struck the back of her head, turning her world pitch black. Now she was awake and back to square one - worried sick - and the only embrace she had to look forward too was the cold and unyielding one offered by the chains. The ones about her chest bit cruelly into her skin as she slouched. Angela closed her eyes, pushing the pain and the worry to the back of her mind, forcing herself to calm. Crying or becoming hysterical would accomplish nothing, and as she established her inner focus she strangely found herself pondering how proud her mother would be to see her right now, putting her training to good use. 

Angela's head swam with bizarre half-formed images, all competing for her attention. The apprentice sorceress drew her senses inward, visualizing a turbulent ocean calming after the passing of a storm, stilling them as she attempted to separate dream from memory and make sense of the hours that had passed since seeing Danny in the park. She recalled giving Andrea a good-bye hug, and seeing over her shoulder the old grandfather clock which stood in the entry hall. She zoomed in on that image, recovering a detail that she had observed but not consciously noted at the time. It had been just past two in the morning when she had departed her mother's house, but gargoyle instinct told her now that sunrise was nearing. She'd lost about four hours. The gap felt unnaturally long. Angela pushed deeper, discarding the nonsensical dream imagery that cluttered her thoughts, slowly uncovering another hazy fragment of memory. 

She must have awakened briefly. She was lying on a padded surface, and a dark-haired Asian woman garbed in white was standing over her, making notes on a clipboard. One of Xanatos's physicians, she'd assumed, thinking she in the castle infirmary. She'd relaxed, thinking she was safe until, unexpectedly, a needle jabbed her sharply in the upper arm. She'd reacted in reflex to pull away, and been surprised to find herself restrained, unable to move her hand. She'd made to cry out, but the first word of protest never even made it past her lips. A hand belonging to an unseen second person had placed a mask over her mouth and nose, and a few seconds later, unconsciousness had reclaimed her.

Angela shivered, her enforced calm faltering as she considered the possible implications of the few brief seconds of memory. Had she and Danny been captured for some sort of medical research? She couldn't place the Asian woman as anyone she recognized, but as she became conscious again of the weight of the shackles about her wrists and ankles, another much older memory returned and a new face moved to the top of her mental list. "Sevarius," she mouthed, the name eliciting an involuntary chill. He had held her captive once before, at Loch Ness, chaining her up and using her as bait in a bizarre, ill-conceived attempt to net himself a full-grown plesiosaur. She'd been rescued, and that plan had been foiled, but he'd survived to go on to bigger and better projects. He'd created clones for Thailog, a carrier virus for Demona, and halflings for Madoc and Maeve. He'd found ways to menaced the clan, yes, but never had he directly targeted her for retaliation. Nor had he been seen since just before the end of the war. Still…

"You haven't fallen asleep _again_, have you, sister?"

Angela's eyes were open in a heartbeat, adrenaline coupled with rage propelling her to her feet in spite of the chains. She glared through the cell bars, red filling her vision as she searched for the source of the eerily familiar feminine voice. "Who are you?!?" she demanded. "Stop hiding and show yourself!"

The young female's eyes went wide, the red glow fading as she stared in open-mouthed shock at the scantily attired lavender gargoyle who stepped into view. She looked like… no, it couldn't be. Like a deer in caught in headlights, Angela froze. Her captor slowly lifted her head, brushing a long sable ponytail aside with her talons to reveal her face. Angela gasped in utter disbelief. It was a face identical to her own.

"Hello, Angie. Long time, no see." Jezebella smiled broadly, her tail lashing with delight. The look of surprise on her twin's face was priceless, better even than she'd imagined it in her dreams. And better yet, the imminent sunrise assured it would remain there all day. 

Angela had no chance to offer a reply. A silent moment more found them both frozen in stone.

* * * * *

She awoke with a roar, eyes blazing and tail lashing as she cast off the thin stone shell. Any hope that the previous night had been naught but a bad dream, however, evaporated instantly as she felt the heavy chains squeeze her tight, keeping her hands at waist level and her wings pressed uncomfortably against her back. Angela strained against the bonds, unable to suppress the natural waking urge to stretch, and growled in frustration at being denied. "Ugh! Where am I?" she demanded, eyes flashing red. She took a staggering half step toward the bars of her cell, the best she could manage with the hobbling shackles. "Who are you?!"

On the other side of the bars, the gargoyle who was her double smiled sweetly and unfurled her wings, stretching them to flick away the lingering bits of stone skin. "Why Angie, don't you recognize me?" she asked. "It's me, Jezebella." She paused, waiting for a response, but Angela only stared at her mutely. "Come on, Angie," she added. "Surely you haven't forgotten your twin sister."

Twin sister? Angela blinked in further disbelief. "I don't have any twin sister."

Jezebella cocked her head to one side, her expression turning pensive. "Oh, that's right," she said. "I forgot for a moment you thought I was _dead_!"

Angela stepped back, reeling at the sheer venom that dripped from the doppelganger's words. Suddenly, she was thankful for the bars that separated them. "I don't even _know_ you," she protested. It was a weak retort, but it was the best she could do as her mind spun in confusion. "Perhaps you've mistaken me for someone else."

Jezebella rolled her eyes. "There's no mistake, sister," she said, taking hold of the bars and sneering wickedly. "You're simply in denial. But Anton told me you'd be like this. No matter. It changes nothing, you know."

Anton. Angela blinked again as the unfinished thoughts from the night before suddenly returned and several pieces of the puzzle fell into place. "You're working with Sevarius," she breathed. She realized she had spoken aloud only after the words had left her mouth, and clamped her lips shut before completing the rest of the thought. _She's a clone… a clone of **me**_.

"Yes," Jezebella replied. "He saved my life after you abandoned me." She smiled casually, releasing the bars and caping her wings. "He's also the one who made this little family reunion possible."

The tip of Angela's tail twitched against the concrete as the gears in her head turned. The initial shock had given way to partial comprehension at the confirmation of Sevarius's involvement. This gargoyle was a clone, and the devious geneticist had obviously programmed her with a uniquely distorted view of reality, much like Thailog had done with Delilah and the others, only more so. She wasn't even aware she was a clone. That alone frightened Angela, but it also made her curious. Maybe, just maybe, she thought quickly, if she played along for now she could learn enough to begin figuring a way out of her present situation. Dropping her head, Angela did her best to feign contrition and tried a new tact.

"I'm sorry, sister. I shouldn't have mocked you."

Jezebella crossed her arms and flipped her high ponytail, raising her chin haughtily. "Mocking me is the least of your offenses, sister. And if you believe a mere apology will appease me, please, think again."

Angela lifted her head, making eye contact with the clone once more. "You want to punish me for what I did to you," she stated. She tugged at the chains which bound her wrists, rattling them for effect. "I understand that."

Jezebella laughed. "You understand _nothing_, dear sister. Punish you? Yes. But this…" She gestured at the cramped confines of the windowless cell. "…this is only the beginning. I want to humiliate you as you humiliated me. Make you suffer as I have suffered." She sneered disdainfully. "Tell me, Angie, what do you suppose all your adoring fans would say if they could see you now? Do you like the new costume I've selected for you? That tunic is just so passé, but those lovely chains suit you perfectly." Jezebella's grin turned salacious. "How does it make you _feel_, sister, to finally look like naughty girl you've been? Are you humbled, or just turned on?"

Angela edged back imperceptibly, wishing now that she hadn't called her double's attention to the chains. Suddenly it was as if her body had become acutely aware of every shackle that bound her, every little link that touched her skin. At Jezebella's words, an image of the Lady Maeve, on her knees before Queen Titania, making a similar insinuation passed unbidden before her mind's eye. Angela's insides twitched in revulsion, and she blushed hotly, unable to stop herself.

Jezebella smirked as her sibling's skin went flush. "I thought as much," she said. She stepped to one side, pointing to shadowy spot on the ceiling behind her. "You might want to smile, as well, sister. You _are_ on camera, and should the tapes ever find their way to the media, I know you'll want to look your best."

Angry eyes flickered red, but the captive gargoyle held down the urge to growl. _Don't let her bait you, Angela_, the voice in her head cautioned. Its tone was cold and firm, just like Demona's, and Angela thought of her training again. _The worst thing you can do is lose control of your temper._ "Just tell me what you want from me," she said. It came out levelly, but still harsher than she'd intended. Jezebella, however, didn't appear to notice.

"What I want, dear sister," she replied, approaching the cell bars again, "is only to regain what _you_ so unjustly stole from me. I want my clan back. I want my _home_ back." She resettled her wings, hatred dancing in her eyes. "I want the life of happiness you have denied me," she intoned, "and I want to give you in return the life of misery your betrayal should have earned you _years_ ago." 

She paused to let her words sink in, and Angela waited in shocked silence, wondering briefly if she'd made a sound decision in choosing to play along. The dark tone in Jezebella's voice was eerily reminiscent of Demona's, only Angela had been on the other side of the prison bars when she'd calmly listened to her mother's rants. 

"I didn't go through all the trouble of bringing you here merely to torment you, sister," Jezebella went on, "though that _will_ be one of the perks. No, I need to make sure you're kept out of my way. You see, you're _not_ going to just disappear as I did, Angela. Your fate will be much worse than that."

The way the clone leered at her was making Angela more and more nervous by the second. "What are you talking about?"

Jezebella smiled mysteriously. "Allow me to introduce the new Miss Angela Brigitte Destine." She uncaped her wings and took a step back, giving a graceful curtsey. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Angela's brow ridges furrowed, her eyes narrowing as she caught the clone's meaning. "You may look like me, but you will not be able to fool my clan."

The musical laugh that came in reply was an eerie echo of Angela's own. "Why, dear sister, I already _have_ fooled them. Who do you think returned to the castle last night in your stead?" The look of genuine shock on Angela's face was all it took to urge Jezebella on. "Father and Elisa seemed quite happy to see me. They do make such an interesting couple... such a shame I missed their mating ceremony." She smiled oddly and shrugged. "That's what a girl gets for being dead, I guess. I would have asked to see the photo album, of course, but as it was I could barely get my new stepmother to give me a moment's peace." 

"You're lying," Angela hissed.

"No, sister, I suspect _you're_ the one who's been telling lies again." The clone smiled prettily. "Detective Maza and her partner seemed most anxious to get me, or rather you, alone for a little chit-chat. I can only imagine that it has something to do with you being up to your old tricks again. Keeping secrets, making up stories, snooping where you don't belong... that sort of thing." She strolled close to the bars again, placing a hand on her hip as her eyes roamed the length of Angela's nude form. "I don't suppose you'd care to share the details?"

Angela swallowed hard. "I don't know what you're talking about." The denial sounded unconvincing even to her. She wasn't surprised in the least when Jezebella laughed. 

"Oh, puh-lease! Come on, sister, I'll find out soon enough anyway. What have you been up to? Who do you suspect of trying to steal your precious Broadway away from you this time? That pretty white-haired clone? Maybe Brooklyn's mate? Or have you moved on to bigger and better things? You may as well tell me, so I can do what I must to salvage your good reputation when I return to my new home at the castle."

Angela kept her jaw clamped firmly shut and glared daggers back at her clone. The lies Sevarius evidently had taught his latest creation were both more bizarre and more complex than she'd anticipated. The whole situation, in fact, was rapidly becoming more than she could possibly hope to control. Deep down, she also had the sick, sinking feeling that, back home, the cat was already out of the bag about her illicit forays into Sector 13. Still, she had no desire to say anything to Jezebella, and dig herself deeper into the hole that Sevarius had already prepared for her.

"Nothing to say to me, sister?" Jezebella crossed her arms. "Humph. I guess there's a first for everything."

"Good evening, ladies." Jezebella turned as Dr. Sevarius strode into the small antechamber that fronted Angela's cell. "I trust you both slept well."

"Sevarius!" Angela broke her silence with a snarl and lunged for the bars before she remembered the chains binding her ankles. She stumbled, tripped and half-fell, landing painfully on her right knee. 

The doctor raised an eyebrow in mild amusement as the captive gargoyle glared up at him. "Miss Destine," he greeted, "I see you're as charming as ever. You know, we really must stop meeting like this. You on your knees, in chains. It's _so_ unbecoming." 

Angela hissed and bared her fangs, her eyes burning a deep scarlet.

"Please pardon my dear sister, Doctor," Jezebella said. Settling her wings, she placed a taloned hand on his shoulder and steered him aside, sparing Angela only a passing glance. "She forgets her place, but she'll learn it soon enough."

"I don't doubt it, my dear." He smiled at his favorite clone, ignoring the low, animalistic growl the caged gargoyle behind him continued to emit from deep within her throat. "I hope I'm not interrupting. I know how much you've been looking forward to chatting with Miss Angela." He took the girl's arm and pulled her close. "Do be careful, though, Jezebella," he whispered. "I've dealt with her before, and I'm sure she'll soon be telling you all kinds of imaginative lies. I'm an evil mad scientist. You're not really her sister, you're a clone I grew in a test tube. Or maybe even that she possesses magical powers and will turn you into a frog if you don't set her free." He wiggled his fingers and chuckled softly. "There's really no telling _what_ she might say."

Jezebella nodded. "Actually, doctor, conversation with her has proved rather disappointing so far." She turned back to the cell, lashing her tail in annoyance as she returned her attention to Angela. Her captive twin glared up at her, nostrils flaring and talons clenched impotently into fists. The defiant look in her eyes only enervated Jezebella more. "Seems she doesn't feel like talking to her long lost sister," she stated, her voice returning to a normal level. 

"Is that so?" Sevarius came up beside the clone, rejoining her in admiring the bound gargoyle. "What a pity, Angela. I'd have thought you'd want to make things easier on yourself."

Using her tail for leverage, Angela pushed herself back to her feet. "I have _nothing_ to say to either of you," she growled, edging away. The cell wasn't very big, but every inch more she could put between herself and them was worth the effort. "Go back to the castle," she dared the clone. "They'll recognize you as impostor soon enough."

"Ah, yes, and then Goliath and his clan will glide off to your rescue, and everyone will live happily ever after." Sevarius clapped his hands. "I _do_ love a good fairy tale, don't you, Jezebella?"

"Oh yes," she replied. "Here, let me tell another. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful gargoyle princess who was adored by all the people in her kingdom. Every day she would come out and wave and smile for the cheering crowds. Then, one day, she was invited by the Lord of the Castle to visit the dungeons, and there she met a little boy with pointed ears." She cocked her head, smirking. "Please stop me when this starts sounding familiar, will you, sister?"

When Angela didn't speak up, Sevarius did. "Funny you should mention that, my dear. I've just had a word about our missing imp."

Angela's ears instantly perked up. "Danny!" she blurted. She growled angrily, realizing too late the slip she'd made, but there was no sense turning back now. "What have you done with him?" she demanded.

Jezebella didn't even acknowledge the outburst. "Really, doctor? Do tell."

"Of course. But someplace a little more quiet. Let's go to my office."

"Wait!" Angela's frantic plea went unheeded. The pair had vanished into the shadows before she could even manage to stagger the short distance to the front of the cell. Angela clenched her talons around the black iron bars. They were too thick to bend. Even if she wasn't chained and could get her hands above waist level, she'd barely have a chance. "Please, wait!" she called again. 

Somewhere at the end of the long, dark corridor that lay beyond the bars, a door slammed. Angela was alone again. Slowly, she sank to the floor, her head drooping miserably under the weight of her emotions. For the first time since her ordeal had begun, Angela wept. 

* * * * *

Danny stared morosely into the dregs of his orange soda and wondered how the hell, exactly, he'd ended up where he had. And it wasn't the all night diner across from the bus station with its glaring neon sign proclaiming "Good Eats Cheap", bright yellow plastic booths, speckled Formica counters, and heavy set, walrus mustached cook/counter man who had been giving him the hairy eyeball ever since he set foot in the place he was contemplating.

He had landed in Trouble. Capital T and all the rest of the letters, too. Population: one halfling named Danny Maldinado.

Angela wasn't Angela. At least he didn't think so. Otherwise, why did the second Angela, the one they'd set out to kidnap, recognize him? She'd looked so genuinely happy to see him. Relieved as if she'd been worried sick.

He'd been completely thrown. Suddenly and without a doubt convinced he'd been played like one of those expensive violins. A Stratacaster? No, that was a guitar. A Stradivarius. Yeah, that was it. He'd been played like a Stradivarius by Angela's twin.

She probably told him the truth, sort of. Just switched the names around so that she was the victim and Angela, the real Angela, the one who had kept him company while he was imprisoned, was the bad guy. 

He'd figured it out in a split second. Whoever she was had given Angela such a look of raw, pure hatred as she sent the stone crashing down into the gargoyle's head. It was all Danny could do to keep from vomiting right there where he lay as Angela dropped bonelessly beside him.

The impostor had yanked him to his feet and handed Danny the blood stained rock. "Hurry," she hissed. "Hit me, just the same. You can do it!"

He took the stone. Felt its heft. Anger burned hot, forcing the nausea to subside momentarily. Magic radiated off him in waves as he lost control. He brought the rock down hard, enjoying the dull thumping noise it made as it impacted with the impostor's skull. The gargoyle fell as bonelessly as her sister. Danny dropped the rock next to her and took off, wondering how he could get the hell out of Dodge because there was no way he was going back with the rest.

Somehow he had to help Angela. But what could he do? If he went back to the castle and tried to let them know, Xanatos and his flunky, that over-starched stuffed shirt, Owen Burnett, would just lock him back up again. For his own good. Yeah, right.

He had to think, to lay low somewhere until he could come up with a plan. And more importantly, stay the hell away from whatever her name was and the other halflings. Candy wouldn't mind seeing him dead. And when Angela's double caught up with him there wouldn't be enough of him left to feed the pigeons.

Yep, Danny thought, glumly. Leaving Trouble. Next stop: World of Hurt.

He dipped a long cold French fry into a pool of ketchup and chewed slowly. Danny had been starved after his night and day of hiding. He'd spent the night in the bus shelter scrunched behind the bench like a stray who knew the dogcatcher had his number. When the sun had risen and people started to clog the street, all those joggers, students and business people in a hurry to get a move on, he'd joined them, melding into the crowd and moving away from the park.

He stopped long enough in front of an antique store window to use one of the intricately framed mirrors prominently displayed to view his reflection. He brushed grass and dried mud off his face and clothes and wished that someone had taught him some practical magic. The kind that would remove stains from his pants and fix the tear in his tee shirt.

Granted, it did give him a certain air of patheticness. Enough so that when he risked standing at the mouth of the subway entrance with a paper cup and a plaintive expression singing a chorus of "Danny Boy", a few, less hardened, commuters had tossed him some change.

But that had run out long ago. When he entered the diner, driven by the hunger only a teenage boy can know, he had the princely sum of sixteen cents and a subway token. Not nearly enough cash to cover the double cheeseburger, bowl of chili, fries, chocolate shake and orange soda he'd ordered as he slid into the booth nearest the back and the short hall the led to the restrooms. He'd taken a quick look, after he'd placed his order. "I'm just going to wash up," he'd called to the counterman who grunted in response as he slapped meat down on the big metal grill.

Two stalls, complete with sit down toilets and a sink. The window was open but barred with iron. No escape that way. Danny washed his hands and face and patted down his hair before returning to his table.

The bell above the front door jangled and a woman entered. Danny shrunk down into the booth as he observed her. Long blonde hair, petite, clad in jeans and a sweat jacket zipped open to reveal a pale blue tee shirt. She had a duffle slung over one shoulder and a sad look on her face. Danny didn't recognize her and he relaxed a little. It was dark, and Angela, or whatever her name was, would be looking. More than once, during the day, he'd felt eyes on his back and had been forced to duck into dark recesses, tamping the urge to throw up any kind of magical defense, knowing that it would only draw the other halflings.

The woman took a seat at the counter and smiled as the walrus handed her a menu. She scanned it briefly, ordered a cup of tea with her All Day Breakfast Special, eggs scrambled with cheese, hash browns, a short stack and no bacon, please.

Danny returned his attention to his own plate. He was down to his last fry and the soda was nothing more than neon orange dregs floating a few lingering chips of ice. The counter man was busy scrambling eggs and making polite conversation with the blonde. It was now or never.

Danny slipped from the booth and bolted for the front door.

He was on the threshold, nearly out and free. A beefy hand clapped down on his shoulder, pinning him in the doorway. "Going somewhere?"

Danny didn't have to spin around, although he did, to see that the counterman had somehow anticipated his move. "I saw my cousin Fred, outside near the bus station," he protested lamely. "Mom said he was getting out of the army." He pointed to a bunch of soldiers and waved at them hoping wildly that one would wave back. The uniformed men ignored him and climbed into a taxi instead.

"Uh huh." The counterman marched Danny back to his booth. "Sit down while I call the cops. No one dines and ducks on my shift."

Danny bit off the sharp retort. The guy had busted him dead to rights. Still, he was angry and magical energy pumped through him making his skin tingle. He took a couple of deep breaths forcing himself to calm down. It would be so easy just to zap the walrus and bolt. But he didn't dare reveal himself. Not even for a minute.

"Excuse me, is there a problem?" The blonde had gotten up and now stood at the counterman's shoulder. The top of her head barely reached the cuff of his short sleeved white cotton shirt. She had a sweet voice, Danny noticed, kind of like Angela's, the real Angela's, full of concern.

"Nah, no problem, miss. This kid..." He shot daggers at Danny. "...was trying to pull a fast one. I had a feeling he wasn't gonna pay for all that food."

"But you served him anyway. That was kind of you." As she spoke the blonde studied the teen. Danny felt her gaze on him and his head dropped in shame.

"Well," the big guy admitted, "he looked he'd had better days. And you can't judge people by appearances. You never know which moth eaten old guy with a shopping cart is gonna pay his tab with a fifty dollar bill."

The girl nodded. "That's very true."

Danny, though he kept his head down in contrition, snuck a glance at the walrus in disbelief. The guy looked like such a hard case. Who'd a thunk he had a heart?

"Do you have the money to pay your check?" The blonde was talking to him now. Danny looked up briefly, long enough to meet her eyes. They were emerald.

He smiled shyly, and shook his head as he removed the sixteen cents and subway token and placed them on the table. "That's it. The whole wad. I can wash dishes," the teen added hopefully.

"Don't need a dishwasher, but thanks for offering." The counter guy took the sixteen cents and left the subway token on the counter. "Tell you what. Maybe it's that sappy movie my wife made me watch last night, or maybe it's the full moon, but I'm feeling generous. Forget the rest of the tab. You find yourself in a spot where you can do something for somebody, you do it. When you do, we'll be even."

Danny stared, not believing his good luck. "Sure mister. Whatever you say. Thanks!"

"I'm glad that's settled." The blonde woman smiled at the boy and man. "My name is Jeannie," she said to Danny. "Why don't you join me for a while?"

"Danny. This seat's free," he offered.

Jeannie smiled again and sat down across from the teenager. The counter guy went back to the grill and started a fresh batch of eggs.

"Where you headed?" Danny said indicating Jeannie's duffle.

"Cleveland, Ohio," Jeannie replied. Her smile faded a little, and her eyes were suddenly sad. "I've never been there, but it has a nice sound to it, don't you think?" she said hopefully.

Danny shrugged. "All I know about Cleveland, I learned from Drew Carey," he quipped. He wanted to say more, but New York was as far from home as he'd ever been. "Sorry, I'm sure it's a great town. Lots of sausages and beer."

The counter guy brought Jeannie's breakfast over. "Thanks," she trailed off waiting for the man to supply his name.

"Leo."

"Thanks, Leo. Keep the change." Jeannie dug a bill out of the back pocket of her jeans and winked as she handed it over. "Just so you know you're covered."

He took the money and grinned at Jeannie like it was an old joke between them before sauntering back behind his counter to serve a couple of transit workers.

Jeannie bent to her eggs and offered the pancakes to Danny. He hesitated then accepted the plate, just to keep her company, he told himself. Truth was, he was still hungry. He wondered if it was stress or the uncomfortable knowledge that this much good luck never lasts, so he should take advantage while he could.

"What about you?" Jeannie inquired between bites. She ate slowly, as if melted American cheese and eggs was a revelation and ketchup some kind of minor miracle meant to be savored.

"Um, uh, I'm keeping my options open."

Jeannie gave him a knowing smile. "You're running away."

"No. Well yeah." What was it about this woman that made him want to confess everything, Danny wondered.

"I thought so. Kindred spirit."

"You're a runaway too?" Danny put down his fork, the half eaten stack of pancakes temporarily forgotten. "No way."

"Way."

"Boyfriend trouble?" She wasn't wearing a ring, and there was no indent on her finger to show she'd recently abandoned one.

Jeannie shook her head. Her long blonde hair parted slightly revealing a pointed tip. Danny stared in shock. Halfling. Oh god. His eyes darted to the window and he scanned as much of the milling crowd as he could. He didn't see any of Sevarius's goons.

"Danny? Danny, what's the matter?" Jeannie radiated concern and Danny's heart slowed to a gallop.

"Your ear."

Jeannie's eyes went wide with panic. Her hand went to her ear tip and buried it back under long blonde tresses. "I can explain."

Danny removed the battered fishing hat he'd worn since the night of the kidnapping. "It's like mine."

* * *

Even late at night the bus station was busy. Great coughing antiques and silent propane powered new models pulled up to the curbs, disgorging passengers in various states of consciousness and excitement. Most shuffled off the final step, blinking and stretching after their long confinements; others, especially the young, lost looking ones, stood momentarily second guessing themselves. They hemmed and hawed and looked backward at the bus wondering if they'd made the right decision.

If they were smart, Danny reflected as he sat listening to Jeannie explain how she found herself caught in the middle of a quarrel between an artist and her lover, they'd ditch their dreams of Broadway or Wall Street or whatever it was that drove them, turn around and get back on the bus. Predators waited, hoping to spring on the new arrivals from Boise and Springfield and a hundred other nameless towns too small to be of notice to anybody but the few hundred people who lived there.

They would smile and welcome some hapless hick and offer to buy them dinner or fix them up with a place to stay. The newcomer, thinking they'd been steered wrong about the mean streets of the big city would say, "Thank you kindly," and go willingly, never to be seen again.

At least not in any shape Aunt Matilda from back home would recognize. He knew because it happened to him. Pimps and pushers had sized him up and licked their chops. Young. Vulnerable. Broke. Fresh chicken for the trade.

Danny resisted. At least for a while. Then one night, when he was hungry and alone a guy offered him $20.00 and he said, "Sure."

The first time was bad, but not horrible. Once the guy had paid him off, and he'd bought himself a Coke to wash out his mouth, Danny had put the rest of the money in his shoe and gone out on the street again. That night, he moved out of the park and into a cheap hotel. Slept in a real bed for the first time in weeks.

After a narrow escape from a twisted John, he got more careful about the cars he got into. Danny endured.

Until that night when he'd blown off hustling and gone to Garlon's soup kitchen, drawn by the promise of free sandwiches and easy work that didn't involve getting a guy off in the front seat of his car.

Danny wondered if Cleveland would be any better or just different.

He doubted it was Jeannie's fault that her friend Andrea and her lover, who sounded to his ears like some kind of rich spoiled brat used to getting her own way, were fighting. She was caught in the middle. And that blew. No wonder she'd gotten fed up. Stuffed her clothes into that duffle and bailed without thinking. He could relate. He'd done exactly the same thing after his mother brought home one too many boyfriends who thought it inconvenient that Lola had a kid and pointed him at the door.

"Hey junior," the last one had said. A skinny, big nosed, fast talker in a bowling shirt named Tad. "You like to camp right?" He'd pulled the blue and white afghan Grandma Meg had made off the sofa and threw it at Danny. "Why don't you enjoy the great outdoors tonight?"

Danny took the hint. He spent the night on the roof of the apartment building, wondering what life was like anywhere but New Jersey. The next morning, after his mother had slammed the door on Tad's skinny ass and let him back inside, he'd made his move. Packed clothes instead of school books into his knapsack and shoved all the cash he'd saved from doing odd jobs around the neighborhood into the pockets of his jeans. Yeah, he could relate to Jeannie's pain.

"You're doing the right thing," Danny said as Jeannie began to wind down. "You don't need those two's trauma."

Jeannie sighed, frustrated. "I just want to help. But I have no influence to change them."

Influence. The word poked at Danny hard. He hesitated and then asked, "Speaking of influence… what did you do to the walrus, back in the diner? He was gonna break me in half and then call the cops, before you showed up."

His companion looked surprised at the notion. "I didn't do anything to Leo. You reminded him of a nephew. His sister's youngest boy. He was thinking, maybe if somebody had looked out for him things would have been different." Jeannie's expression turned puzzled. "How did I know that?" She turned to Danny and examined him minutely in the sulfurous light of the bus depot. "What kind of creature are you?" she asked not unkindly. "You are of the Third Race, that much is obvious. But you are not Djinn."

Danny returned Jeannie's scrutiny with a perplexed shrug. "I'm a halfling, same as you. What's a Djinn?"

"Halfling?" Jeannie turned the word over slowly. "You mean you are of mixed blood, human and fay?"

Another shrug. "Yeah, I guess." Danny caught up with her meaning after several seconds. "Wait you mean like half Italian and half Irish? Nuh, uh. I was born human. 100%. I met up with some guys a few years back and they pulled a fast one. Gave us a big pitch about how they were gonna fix our lives. They changed me. And a bunch of other people too. I thought you were one of us." The teen was suddenly uncomfortably aware that his companion was not what he first thought. He backed away a little, breaking their shoulder to shoulder contact. "You're not one of us."

"I won't hurt you," Jeannie said softly.

"Are you one of them?"

Jeannie gave Danny a quizzical look. "One of who?"

"You're like Garlon or that screwball Puck. You're pure magic."

Alarm flitted over Jeannie's delicate features. "You know of Garlon and of the Puck? They have been to this place?"

"Well, yeah." Danny frowned, recalling past events, and wondered how Jeannie could have missed out. "Headless Horseman, dogs with glowing red eyes… but that was a couple of years ago. You weren't living under a rock, were you?"

"In a bottle, actually."

Danny took a double take, but there was no sign that Jeannie was jerking him around. "And how did that work out for you?"

Jeannie shrugged otherwise ignoring the question. "You radiate magic, did you know that?"

"I do?" Danny tensed. He scanned the depot and saw nothing. Still his posture remained alert. Where he had slouched next to Jeannie before he now sat perched on the wooden bench.

"When you're nervous, like now. Or frightened like when we first met in the diner." Jeannie looked thoughtful, toying with her long blonde hair as she ruminated over something. "I guess I was able to use that to read Leo. On my own I have very little power."

"We could team up." The idea was out of Danny's mouth before he could stop it. "You could teach me. And I could help you. Being able to read people like a book, and know just what to say could be a big bonus in a strange city."

"But don't you have family or friends here? Won't they worry if you just disappear?"

There was a sudden rustling of wings and a lavender blue gargoyle stepped out of the shadows. "Of course he does," she said sweetly. "And they've been worried sick about you!"

"Angela?" Danny looked doubtfully at the gargoyle, unable to trust his eyes. "Are you okay? How did you get away from your sister?"

The gargoyle stared blankly for a fraction of a second as if surprised by the question. "My sister?" Then sharply, "Oh, her. She's no sister of mine." Her mouth curled in anger. "They knocked me out right after I saw they had you and loaded me into a van. I woke up midway into the trip, escaped and hid in the woods, too injured to glide. When I woke up I went searching for you."

"Not back to the castle?" Danny stood slowly up from the bench, but held his ground.

"I thought you were more important." She looked at Jeannie. "But I see I needn't of worried. You've landed on your feet and made a new friend."

"Angela?" Jeannie said uncertainly.

The gargoyle smiled warmly, but there was no recognition in her eyes. "Do I know you?"

Jeannie took Danny's hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. She stood up and shouldered her duffle. "Danny, we have to go now, or we'll miss our bus."

He nodded and sidled away from the gargoyle.

"Ungrateful little whelp!" Jezabella growled as she realized the boy wasn't buying her act any longer. It was true. He had found her out. "Danny," she called sweetly. "Wait."

Despite the blonde woman's urging, Danny turned and took a few steps towards her. "I believed you." He wasn't quite yelling, but his voice was loud enough to catch the attention of the travelers who had up until then filtered out the presence of two more of their own. A crowd gathered as they noticed the gargoyle.

"You used me!" he said, louder. Danny's voice was rough with hurt. "You weren't my friend. You were never my friend." Energy radiated off the boy as his agitation grew. "You lied! You told me all those stories about your clan and how they treated you."

Jezabella looked genuinely hurt. "Danny. You've got it wrong. I am your friend." She edged closer ignoring the crowd. "Come back with me and I'll prove it."

"No!" Danny raised a hand, not caring now who saw him. Blazing green energy shot from his fingertips, crackling as it struck the gargoyle.

She flew backwards, stunned and confused, landing against a lamppost. "Why, you little bastard! That's twice you've hurt me." She flew at Danny, bowling him over before he could raise a defense as Jeannie watched helplessly.

* * * * *

Matt snuck a glance at his partner. She was sitting tense behind the wheel of the Fairlane, still working off the last of the Captain's dressing down. A muscle in her jaw jumped periodically. He wanted to tell her to relax, but the last time he'd tried, Elisa had just curtly snapped, "Don't." before stalking out of Chavez's office. She blamed herself. For what, Matt wasn't sure. Getting her loyalties confused, he supposed. But which family was she supposed to put first: the one in blue or her clan?

They sailed through a newly turned red light, nearly hitting a cabbie that jumped his green. Elisa ignored the blare of horn but she relaxed a fraction. Which was good, Matt thought, because being in the passenger seat of Elisa's car when she was stressed probably was taking years off his life.

"The captain was right," Elisa said at last, breaking the silence. "I let my feelings get in the way of my work. You should have taken point on this case."

Nothing like coming to terms with the obvious, Matt thought to himself. But what he said was, "No sense crying over spilt milk, partner. You walk a fine line sometimes dealing with the clan. You fell off it this time."

The radio squealed static and Elisa's hand moved to the volume control ready to curb the volume. Matt grabbed her wrist. "Wait."

He released his partner and snared the mic giving their call sign before Elisa could question his action. "Control. Repeat last transmission, over."

"Repeating: All units in the vicinity of Port Authority Bus Terminal. Weapons fired. Gargoyle sighted. Altercation in progress."

Elisa spun the car around throwing Matt back against the seat of the car. "Lights and siren?" he managed through gritted teeth.

She flipped a switch and Matt thanked the NYPD Mechanics Local 302 for figuring out a way to unobtrusively mount emergency lights on Elisa's classic car.

"We don't have to do this, Elisa," Matt said in response to his partner's manic wheel work and tense expression. "We could let someone else deal for a change."

"It's okay, Matt." She swung a fast right, tires squealing in protest and the bus station came into view.

They weren't the first unit on the scene. Transit cops had come running at the cries of "Fight!" and "Guns!" and they had moved quickly to hold the crowd back away from the three figures at the center of the altercation. They stood, guns drawn, pointing uncertainly at a teenage boy who glowed weirdly green and Angela. The pair was locked in combat, tussling in close quarters on the pavement. A third woman, Andrea's guest from Destine Manor, stood watching in abject terror.

"Don't hurt him!" she cried as Elisa and Matt yanked tasers from their shoulder holsters and ran to join the others.

"All right," Elisa commanded as she closed on the combatants. Her voice was arctic. "That's enough. Angela, let him go! Both of you! Hands of the tops of your heads! Now!"

To the surprise of the transit cops and the patrol unit that arrived on the detective's heels, the pair stopped, separated and complied.

"The gargoyle started it!" shouted a bystander.

"Yeah," protested a second, "after the kid shot her with that green light! Hey! How'd he do that?"

"Restraints," Elisa snapped. She shook her head as a transit cop pulled a plastic strap out of his pocket. "Use cuffs."

Matt nodded and pulled handcuffs from his belt. He advanced under the cover of the other officers and snapped the cuffs around the thin wrists of the teenage boy. Steel wasn't as good as pure iron, but it would do in a pinch against those with fay blood.

"She attacked me!" he protested as Matt led him toward a pair of uniforms.

"I'm not surprised, halfling," the detective muttered through gritted teeth.

The kid went from sullen to shocked in a heartbeat. The redheaded detective ignored the reaction as he shoved the kid toward the arms of the uni and went to back up his partner.

Elisa had cuffed Angela in heavy shackles that made the pair Matt had used on the boy look like party favors. The gargoyle stood quietly, arms bound behind her, her surprise at the harsh treatment etched in the uncharacteristic lines that drew down her mouth. "Elisa," she said plaintively as Matt closed, "why are you doing this?"

"It's my job, Angela." Elisa pulled a card from her pocket and began to read in a dead voice. "You have the right to remain silent."

"You're arresting me?" No mistaking the surprise in the gargoyle's voice.

Elisa continued to read finishing the short Miranda statement before asking, "Do you understand these rights as I've read them to you?"

Another numb nod. There was a tug at Matt's elbow and he looked down. Jeannie stood there. "Please, don't hurt Danny, he was just protecting himself."

Angela's eyes flared red as she renewed her protests. "He attacked me! Elisa, please, you've got to listen! He's a…" The gargoyle lowered her voice. "…halfling. He escaped from Xanatos's holding facility. I was in the process of recapturing him. Can't you see you've got this all wrong?"

"I can't talk to you." She led the gargoyle towards a squad car and opened the door. "Watch your head."

Angela bent as if to comply, then snapped her tail, sending Elisa flying. Caught with no warning, the detective hit the pavement hard. She struggled weakly for a moment using her hands to push up off the concrete, then faded and slumped backward striking her head for a second time. The uniform officer standing at the front of the car, yanked his gun and trained in on the fleeing gargoyle, but hesitated, unable to lock on target as she knocked over another cop and bounded into the shadows, working hard to break the shackles even as she sped away. He ran to Elisa's side calling "Officer Down!"

Matt's attention snapped away from Jeannie at the call and he sprinted to his partner's side. She lay out cold as the police mobilized into a search pattern. Helicopters, called in as part of the standard gargoyle incident protocol, swept searchlights over the depot and its environs. After several seconds a pilot caught a winged figure in his beam and gave pursuit even as more cops spilled out of patrol cars and began to search on foot.

Bluestone focused on the blood that seeped onto the concrete from underneath Elisa's head. "We need an ambulance now!"

* * *

Elisa's eyes fluttered opened slowly. "I'm fine," she protested as she struggled to sit up.

"No," Matt replied firmly. "You're not." He removed his suit jacket, exposing the white shirt and holster underneath, folded it and gingerly placed it beneath his partner's head. "You were out for almost two minutes. Lay still until the paramedics check you over. I'm gonna go talk to that kid and see if he can give us a lead."

The sounds of an ambulance siren screamed in the distance as Matt stalked back to Danny. The woman, Jeannie, was standing subdued in the grip of a transit cop. She looked up hopefully as Matt returned. "Please," she began. "It wasn't his fault. I tried to get him away from her, but she'd hurt him so badly. Lied. He said she used him. He couldn't leave without letting her know how that made him feel. I should have tried harder," she said softly. "This is all my fault."

Matt felt his interest in the boy grow. This was more than just a random street fight. Could the halfling be one of Angela's accomplices? He turned to the petite blonde at his shoulder. "Your name is Jeannie, right?"

She nodded and wiped at tear that threatened to spill in relief. "You're Detective Bluestone. You came to Ms. Destine's house with questions."

"That's right." He nodded a curt dismissal at the cop and escorted Jeannie several paces away from Danny. "Suppose you give this to me again."

"I knew something wasn't right about her from the moment she approached."

"She. You mean the gargoyle," Matt clarified.

Jeannie nodded. "Danny thought she was Miss Angela. I had no idea they were acquainted. But she seemed wrong."

"Wrong, how?" Matt said, not sure already if he liked the direction of the conversation. The ambulance pulled up simultaneously with a paramedic unit. The crews swarmed out of their rigs and began to work on Elisa. He forced his attention back to his witness.

"I have a certain feeling about people," Jeannie admitted, hesitant to explain further. Matt gave her what he hoped was an encouraging look. She refused to meet his gaze, staring instead at a crack in the pavement at her feet. "I just know. I tried to get Danny away from her. I tried to get him to go towards the people and safety."

"You thought she would hurt him?"

Jeannie nodded and broke her fix on the blacktop. She looked up at Matt, her expression earnest. "He recognized the wrongness about her too, I think. His face…" she trailed off for a moment, remembering. "He looked so hurt. So angry. He turned back and that's when the fight began. First it was just words and then…more."

There was a sudden disturbance among the crowd and a voice called out. "Please, that's my friend. Let me through!"

Matt glanced over at the perimeter. Andrea Calhoun was struggling, trying to get past the uniformed officers that held back the crowd of onlookers. He flicked a glance back at Jeannie. She seemed unhappy at Andrea's arrival.

He shouted at the cops on the line. "Let her through but hang on to her until I say otherwise." Matt returned his attention to the young woman at his side. "Explain what you mean by 'wrong'."

"That's not Miss Angela," Jeannie stated. "I know it looks like her, but it's not." Her voice trembled and she put her hand on Matt's arm. He felt a curious sympathy for her as she pleaded. "Please. I can tell you're a good man. What happened here tonight isn't Danny's fault. He's scared and alone. I tried to help him tonight, but I failed. Won't you do something? Please?"

Matt found himself nodding. "I'll do what I can," he promised. "I might need to question you again. Can I reach you through Ms. Destine?"

Jeannie shook her head. "My intention was to leave town tonight."

Matt glanced over at Andrea Calhoun. The painter looked worried sick. I take this was a sudden decision?"

Eyes back on the pavement. Voice small. "It was. I felt I was imposing on their hospitality. It was time for me to move on."

Matt sighed. Something wasn't right between the ladies of Destine Manor. Normally, he wouldn't pry, but he needed to hang on to Jeannie at least until this thing with Angela was sorted out. "Somehow, I think that Ms. Calhoun there might beg to differ."

Jeannie shrugged her small shoulders. God she seemed fragile, Matt thought. Like someone needed to protect her. "Perhaps. But the situation remains all the same."

"All right," he said. "Stay here for a minute."

He motioned for Andrea's escort to bring her over. "Goddess, is she all right?" the painter exclaimed as she hurried toward Matt. She had apparently dressed in haste in canvas painter's pants and a pink tee shirt. Her sneakers were untied and socks mismatched, one white, the other pink. And she seemed rather windblown though the night was calm.

"Fine." Matt eyed her curiously. "But I have to wonder, what brought her to the bus station on this particular night."

Andrea sighed and pulled a tissue from her pocket. When Matt looked closer he realized her eyes were red from crying. "She must of overheard me and Dominique fighting. It was a real knockdown drag out. Her name was mentioned. She left a note and took off. Didn't even say good bye." She looked up at Matt. "Can I talk to her at least? I wanted to apologize."

Matt looked down at Andrea and over at Jeannie. His glance stole to Elisa being loaded into the ambulance. He could hear her protests even from where he stood thirty yards away. His night was filled with sad young women. He wondered if these two would end up consoling each other. The thought depressed him, but he soldiered on. "Look. About that. Can you convince her to stay for at least another day? She's a witness, and we're going to need to talk to her again."

Andrea pushed a stray lock of honey blonde hair behind her ear. "I can try."

Matt nodded and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. "Fine. Don't leave until I clear you, okay?"

Andrea nodded and hurried over to Jeannie. Matt could hear the apologies begin as he returned his attention to Danny.

"All right, son," he said as he dismissed yet another patrol officer, "tell me what happened."

"Son?" Danny sneered. "Not 'halfling scum'? Why the change in 'tude?" 

Matt stared the kid down. He jerked a thumb toward Jeannie. "Because your friend over there seemed to think there's more to this story and I happen to agree. Now convince me that I'm not wasting my time."

Danny looked over to where Jeannie and Andrea were conversing earnestly and Matt followed his gaze. The painter was pulling a packet out of one of the deep flapped pants pockets and pressing it into the other woman's hands. "That one must be Andrea. She doesn't look like a spoiled brat."

He took another few seconds to watch the women and Matt wondered if he could hear their conversation with his enhanced halfling senses. "Tick, tick," the detective prompted.

Danny shook his head. "Sorry. Look. I know I haven't been exactly a boy scout. But Angela was my friend. And she's good. So when she helped me to escape and then told me about how she'd been replaced at the castle by her evil twin sister, I had to believe her. So I helped her kidnap her twin in the park. The only problem is at the last second, I figured out that the gargoyle that I'd been helping wasn't Angela. She was the evil twin and I'd been duped. So I took off. And then tonight, when she showed up, for a second I thought it was Angela but Jeannie realized it wasn't and she tried to get me away, but I was mad. She used me like the dumb kid I am. And I let her."

Danny's voice had steadily risen in volume and pitch and now some of the other cops were watching surreptitiously. Matt placed a hand on the teen's shoulder and he took a few gulping breaths before continuing. "That's pretty much it. I lost my temper and yelled at her and, well," he wiggled his fingers to indicate the energy discharge. "You know. And then you guys showed up." He fell silent for a second and then issued another verbal barrage. "Wait. If that wasn't Angela then the real Angela's been kidnapped. You have to help her! There's no telling what _she'll_ do if she gets her talons into her!"

Matt gave the kid another hard stare and decided that either he was the best actor ever or he had to be telling the truth. There was no way he could fake the trembling anxiety that shook his body or the panicked look in his pale eyes. "Can you find this place, where they've taken her?"

Danny nodded. "I'm sure of it!"

Matt nodded. "All right." He glanced at the two women who were now hugging tearfully. They were speaking but their voices didn't carry. Matt watched as Jeannie shook her head one last time and the painter walked quickly away waiting as she was instructed near the cordon of police officers. The crowd had thinned. Jeannie stood alone, looking hesitantly toward Matt and Danny.

That did it. He grabbed Danny by the forearm and waved Jeannie over. "Come on, you two are coming with me." He herded the pair over to the Fairlane that stood door still open, keys still waiting in the ignition. He gestured Jeannie and Danny in but made no move to remove the teenager's handcuffs.

"We're going to straighten this out once and for all."

He got in behind the wheel. Slammed the door shut and the engine purred to life. He threw the car into gear and roared out of the bus depot.

* * * * *

"Hurry up, damn it! Get these fucking things off me!" Jezebella turned her head restlessly, trying to look over her shoulder and see what progress Candy was making, but own wings blocked her view. 

The halfling woman made a face as the handcuffed gargoyle's nervous tail smacked her leg for the umpteenth time. "Jesus, Jez. If you'd stop squirming around for two lousy seconds…"

"Just get them off!" Jezebella closed her eyes and tilted her head back, drawing a deep breath. Her chest heaved, her breasts straining against the tight fabric of Angela's tunic, but the blood continued to pound in her ears. The adrenaline that had fueled her on the frantic glide back was wearing off, and a claustrophobic panic threatened to overwhelm her in its wake. The shackles had proven too strong to break, but the cuts and bruises on her wrists testified to no lack of trying. She had sprinted for several city blocks, zigzagging through back alleys, before she'd finally managed to wrench her wings free from beneath her restrained arms and lose the cops pursuing on foot. A dumpster and a low brick wall had provided the stepping stones needed to gain some initial altitude, and then she'd gone airborne. Staying aloft had taken every ounce of her willpower, finding new ways to compensate and rebalance with her legs and tail. Now, however, with that distraction gone, she was free again to focus on the old memories of terror and helplessness that being restrained brought back. "Hurry," she said again through gritted teeth. "Please!"

"Hold still, Jez. Just a little more… there!" The first lock came undone with a soft click, and Jezebella let out a gasping sigh of relief as she felt the heavy cuff fall away from her right wrist. Candy circled around as Jezebella brought her hands in front of her and rubbed at the bruised and irritated skin. "Here," she said, steering the gargoyle to the edge of the bed. Gently, she pushed her down, making her sit, and dropped to her knees beside her, going to work on the other cuff. "This key doesn't exactly fit, but it seems like if you turn it until it stops, then pull and give it just the right twist…" The halfling woman grinned in triumph again as the second lock clicked open. "Bingo."

Jezebella gratefully yielded the set of heavy restraints to the other woman and began to rub at the other wrist, curling and uncurling her talons as the pins and needles feeling prickled her skin. "Thank you."

Candy rose, eyeing the lavender gargoyle carefully. It had been seven months since Sevarius had shown up at her door with an envelope full of cash and a simple proposition. He'd been working on a way to make the halflings fully human again. If she could round up as many of the old gang as she could find, and help him gather what he needed to complete his research, she'd be first in line for the cure. A month later, as she and the others settled in to their new lodgings, he'd introduced her to Jezebella. "You'll be taking your instructions from her from now on." She'd almost quit right then and there. Taking orders from a gargoyle… the twin sister of the she-demon who'd seduced George's brother, no less. The poor guy was probably spinning in his grave. Why had she stayed? She hadn't had a change of heart about gargoyles, that's for sure. She still despised them in general, even though Jezebella herself at times had her moments. No, what kept her from walking was not the money or the free room and board. It was the possibility of being human again. Even if it meant making nice with a gargoyle. "You're welcome," she replied at last. 

Jezebella leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and hugged herself, drawing one last calming breath. Candy watched her, uncertain, struggling with an irrational urge to return to her side and comfort her. Suddenly, she understood why Jezebella had been so furious the previous night when they'd dragged her from the van, and why in the aftermath after Danny had unchained her the girl had quickly retreated with Sevarius instead of immediately turning her talons on her and Jake. The panic she'd seen in Jezebella's eyes when she'd run into her in the hallway just a few minutes ago had been the same.

"We're even now, halfling," Jezebella said at length, once she'd regained her composure. "But if you ever mention this to any of the others, all bets are off."

Candy re-pocketed the skeleton key and slipped the shackles into the drawer of the bedside stand as Jezebella rose. They were police grade, special issue: strong, expensive, and well-made. She smiled. They would add nicely to her collection and might even come in handy if she ever got around to having her own reunion with Andy. "Hey, that goes for me, too, gargoyle," she said as she followed Jezebella from the room. "I've got a reputation around here as a real bitch, and I don't want it ruined."

* * *

Any bit of calm Jezebella had regained after being freed from the handcuffs had long since evaporated by the time she finished relating the events at the bus station to Dr. Sevarius.

"She actually arrested me! Handcuffs, Miranda rights, and everything!" She held out her hands, showing the darkening bruises on her wrists. "Look at this! This is how she treats her own stepdaughter. I mean, what the _hell_ is up with that?" Jezabella growled. "Two nights ago, the whole city was kissing Angela's ass. The minute I take her place, there's a swat team looking to arrest her. Do I have the worst fucking timing of any gargoyle who ever lived, or is there just a big conspiracy to make my life a living hell?"

"Now, now. You don't suppose you're overreacting just a tad, my dear?" Sevarius's voice was level, and Jezebella scowled at him.

"Overreacting? This whole fucking plan has been going wrong since the beginning! First I get kidnapped instead of Angela. Then that fucking kid runs away, and I find out the only person at the castle who knows beans about Sector 13 is my uncooperative sister. And now this. I swear, the only good thing to happen so far was when Demona showed up tonight and kept the cops distracted long enough for me to slip away."

"Demona was at the bus station?" Sevarius asked. "Why?"

"I wouldn't know. I didn't stick around to ask." Jezebella crossed her arms, the angry scowl on her face deepening. "Maybe she and my sister have been conspiring together. And maybe that bitch Elisa Maza found out about it and decided Angela's finally gone too far. It doesn't matter. I'll be damned if I'm going to take the rap for her!"

"Your position is understandable," Sevarius stated. "However," he added, "I don't believe it's your sister who's to blame for Miss Angela being a wanted gargoyle."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jezebella whirled as he fingered the button on a remote and the television in the wall sprang to life.

"…but here at the Mayor's office, officials are still refusing to confirm a report first leaked yesterday that police are seeking a gargoyle for questioning in connection with a series of medical research facility break-ins. No comment has been offered, either, as to why NYPD veteran Harry O'Neal, the security guard who was assaulted and injured during the most recent robbery early last week, has been placed under police guard at Manhattan Medical." The female anchor paused, brushing a strand of dark hair back behind her ear as a camera crew from a rival network ascended the steps of City Hall behind her. "After tonight's incident at the Port Authority Bus Terminal, however, it seems doubtful that police and city officials will be able to leave the public's questions unanswered for much longer."

"Thank you, Alice. I'm Travis Marshall. _Night Watch_ will be back in a moment with more on this breaking story."

Sevarius muted the volume as a commercial came on. "I thought you 'took care' of that guard, Jessie." His tone was cool and accusatory.

Jezebella fumed. Candy, who'd been watching silently, edged away, expecting any second to see smoke begin pouring from the gargoyle's ears. "I thought I had," Jezebella grumbled. "Damn it all."

"This really complicates things," Sevarius commented. "That witness you left behind has made Angela into public enemy number one, and that boy you allowed to get away could end up leading the police right to us. Or worse yet, Goliath's clan."

"I didn't 'allow' him get away," Jezebella protested, eyes flashing. "Elisa and her partner showed up with a dozen other cops. What the hell was I supposed to do?" 

"It doesn't matter now. We need a new plan, that's all." He paused, thinking. "If the boy tells them everything, and if he manages to lead them here," Sevarius stated, "it's going to mean big trouble. You know they won't leave until they find her."

Jezebella thought quietly for a long moment. "Then I guess we'll just have to let them have her." She turned to Candy. "Do you still have that collar and leash from the other night?" 

Candy nodded. "Of course."

"Good. Go get it. Meet me downstairs in ten minutes."

The halfling smiled. "Sure thing, boss. Shall I bring the gag, too?"

Jezebella shrugged. "Why not?"

Sevarius raised an eyebrow as the young woman scampered eagerly from the room. "Jezebella?" he intoned.

"It's time to do some damage control and cut our losses, Doctor," the clone replied. "I have a new plan."

* * * * *

"Hey!" Danny exclaimed after several minutes of being buffeted around the backseat of the Fairlane. Jeannie had strapped the pair of them in as they accelerated away from the depot, but the classic car had only a lap belt and no shoulder restraint. "Where are we going?"

Matt cut through traffic like a hot knife through butter. "Eyrie Building. We need reinforcements."

Danny reacted by slamming himself against the door. Restrained as he was, the gesture was completely ineffectual, but he repeated it and would have done it a third time had Jeannie not wrapped her arms around the teen and bodily held him down.

"No way! Stop the car. I'd rather go to juvie then back to that place!"

Matt did stop. For a traffic light. He turned away from the wheel far enough that his own seat belt dug into his neck. His voice was low and deadly. "Listen to me, you punk. Do you want to help Angela or don't you?"

Danny nodded uncertainly, and Jeannie said, "We have to get her clan, Danny. Don't you see? We can't do this alone."

"That's right," Matt concluded. "Now look. Xanatos has a beef with you. I can appreciate that. But I promise that I'll do what I can, if you'll help us out. All right?"

A driver somewhere behind them leaned loudly on his horn. Matt held Danny's gaze until the teenager nodded his head uncertainly. "Jeannie, when we get to the castle you stick close to him unless I say otherwise. Okay?"

She nodded, her arm still around Danny. The situation was dire but the former djinn felt better then she had since she'd been freed from her bottle. Finally, she was helping. "I won't let him out of my sight."

"Good." The rest of the trip passed swiftly. Minutes later, Matt swung the car into the underground garage. He slowed, barely. The tires squealed each time he cornered. He stopped, parking diagonally across three spaces next to the "Castle Wyvern Special" as the workers of the building had dubbed the restricted elevator, and tumbled out of the car. He opened Jeannie's door and helped her out, then watched as she did the same for Danny. "All right you two. Stay close."

The ride up the elevator was made in silence. Jeannie and Danny communicated in anxious glances and reassuring touches. From time to time Jeannie would look up at Matt and he would smile encouragingly at her. It was obvious that she was worried about the boy and what would happen to him and for some reason she made Matt, as hardened as he was, share her concerns.

"It'll be fine," he said as the elevator doors slid smoothly open and revealed Owen ready to greet them as they entered the Great Hall.

"Daniel," The tall impeccably tailored majordomo quirked his mouth in disapproval at the sight of the teenager in handcuffs. "Welcome back."

"Bite me, Fairy Man." He scowled at Owen for a long moment then dropped his eyes to the floor.

"Danny!" Jeannie put her arm around the boy protectively. She stared defiantly at Owen until she felt the aura of magic that radiated off the human form. She dropped the arm from around Danny's shoulder and pressed her hands together in front of her as she joined Danny in staring at the flagstones. "Sir, I apologize! I did not know!"

Owen gave the small blond woman a quizzical look and delicately, as if handling something foreign and possibly unpleasant, swept her hair away from her ears revealing the pointed tips. "Interesting," was his only comment as he returned his attention to Bluestone.

Matt stared at Jeannie. "What are you?"

"I believe, Detective, that would take more time to explain then you currently have," Owen replied as he gestured toward the corridor that led to Xanatos's private office. "I assume you are here about the disturbance at the Transit Authority?"

Matt had trouble tearing his gaze away from Jeannie. "Yeah," he said at last. "Look. We need to mobilize the clan. There's some kind of impostor masquerading as Angela."

"Your timing is fortuitous, Detective," Owen replied as he knocked on the great oak door that led to Xanatos's inner sanctum. "The clan is already assembled in regard to another matter." He opened the door and gestured them in.

Xanatos sat in his customary chair behind the large black enameled desk. Lexington sat in what was apparently the "hot seat," flanked by Goliath and Brooklyn. Sata and Delilah looked on. Hudson, the twins and the Egyptian gargoyle, Ptah were absent from the conference.

They'd evidently been talking about something technical. Lexington's lap was full of computer printouts and more papers were spread out in front of Xanatos. Whatever the topic of discussion had been, it had been hastily abandoned as the assembled turned their attention to a large television monitor tuned to a news bulletin. A female reporter stood before the remnants of the police barricade at the Port Authority summarizing events.

"Matt!" Lexington blurted. "What happened? Is Angela okay?"

Matt hesitated. Goliath was looking at him, and more to the point, the space behind him, waiting for Elisa to make her appearance. He might was well triage the situation and get on with it. "No, she's not. The gargoyle who was at the bus station wasn't Angela. According to Danny here, Angela's been kidnapped by her evil twin sister."

The clan erupted as one.

"What twin?"

"We've never met any twin!"

"Angela has no twin," stated Goliath flatly.

"Yeah, well maybe, maybe not," Danny said harshly, impatient to get moving and not in the mood to argue. "But this bitch looks like she stepped outta Angela's mirror. She's got Angela and her and that creepy English guy that runs the joint are gonna kill her if we don't do somethin' about it!"

"Creepy English guy?" Xanatos said thoughtfully. He traded a knowing look with Owen Burnett. The spare blonde man adjusted his glasses. "Who do we know that fits that description?"

"Could it be, sir, that Dr. Sevarius has come back to town?"

"My thoughts exactly, Owen," Xanatos concurred. "Think about it. Anton creates a clone of Angela, fills her head with all kinds of outlandish stories about her past and turns her loose."

"You mean it could have been this clone that had me hack into Sector 13?" Lexington said as he rifled the documents in his lap. "Angela did seem really angry the other night when I told her I'd been blocked out of the system."

Xanatos smirked. "Lucky for us you never give up trying, Lexington. That piggyback worm was a masterstroke of programming, but you overplayed your hand when you tried it a second time."

Lexington looked chagrined. "It was just, you should have seen the look on Angela's…" He caught himself. "…or whoever it was, face. She was so sure that you'd done something horrible to her friend. How were we to know that Owen was trying to teach him to control his magic so he could pass in the human world?"

Xanatos shrugged. "You could have asked, I suppose." He scanned the faces of the gargoyles before him. Trust was always going to be an issue to some extent. Oh well, the cost of doing business, he thought to himself. "Moving on. Owen, contact the Security Team. Have them coordinate with the Science boys and recheck the DNA evidence for cellular aging markers. They'll know what I mean. Let's find out who really was visiting Sector 13."

"I'm all for solving your prison break, Mr. Xanatos, but this clone has a head start, Angela, and she's put Elisa in the hospital."

"WHAT?" Goliath growled.

"She was the 'veteran detective' the reporter said was injured at the scene?" Brooklyn said. The edges of his beak turned downwards into a frown and he became even a darker brick red as anger rode over him like a wave.

"Yeah, I didn't know how to tell you, Goliath. I'm sorry," Matt recalled that last glimpse of his partner being loaded into the ambulance and the pool of blood underneath Elisa's head. "She was taken to Mercy General."

"Is she…" Matt watched as Goliath struggled with the news. "How bad?"

"I don't know," he replied. "She hit her head and passed out for a couple of minutes. She was lucid and awake when they took her to get checked over." The detective stuffed his hands in his pockets and fiddled with Elisa's keys. "They'll call me when there's news."

Goliath nodded. Digested. Prioritized the information. Came to the same conclusion Matt had. Elisa was in good hands. There would be time to worry over her bedside later. Now they had to focus on Angela. He turned on Danny, drawing himself fully upright and resettling his wings as he sized up the halfling teenager. "Do you know where they are keeping her?"

"It's about time!" Danny huffed. "Yeah. Well, I think so. We were always moving in closed vans and they didn't really let us out to cruise the neighborhood. But there was a train track nearby. I could hear the whistles every night at 11:30 and again at five in the morning. Freight trains. But I could hear the lighter commuter trains too. So I guess there were both. And there was a billboard I could see from my window. They just put up a new one. A vodka flavored malt beverage. As if someone would want to drink that!" His mouth curled in disdain. Before he continued, his eyes closed hard as he focused on any visual cues that might help them find Angela. "And I'm pretty sure that it was in Jersey someplace. Not too far though. Through the Holland tunnel for sure, though. And close enough to the water to hear ferry boats on the Hudson." He shook his head, disgusted that he couldn't come up with more.

Owen moved to a computer terminal. Lexington slipped out of his chair and went to the taller man's side. "Here. Let me." The majordomo moved out of the way with a quirk of his eyebrow. Lexington removed a jack from behind one ear and plugged it into a receptacle on the back of the workstation. He tapped keys, muttering under his breath as he communed with the computer.

"Cross referencing. Commuter schedules. Freight schedules. Billboard companies. Ad rollouts… Lexington's eyes fluttered closed as he surfed municipal records systems, commercial websites and the Transportation Authority. The others looked vaguely ill at ease even though they waited nervously for the gargoyle to report.

"I've got it!" Lexington cried. "That ad campaign is brand new. It's a test market and they've only put up a handful of signs. Cross referencing that with the train schedules and the other information and viola!" A map rolled up on the screen replacing the frozen woman reporter. "New Jersey. It's got to be somewhere here." A red dot appeared on the map. "On Wayne Street. Follow the tunnel to the train crossing and then look for the billboard. It's got a big blue bottle on it."

"What are we waiting for?" Brooklyn and Sata rose. "Let's saddle up."

The group looked to Goliath for approval. He nodded back at them. "We'll meet on this rooftop…" He pointed at the map. "…to plan our final entry."

Danny piped up. "Hey! What about me? I wanna go, too!"

Xanatos shook his head. "Sorry, kid. This has to be an aerial strike." Danny glared at him defiantly and the billionaire reconsidered. "Okay. You can go with Owen in the mop-up van." He glanced at Matt. "If that's okay with you, detective?"

Matt looked at the kid, gauging him hard. Maybe he was young enough for a second chance. He pulled the key for the handcuffs out of his pocket, stepped behind the teenager and freed his wrists, pocketing the cuffs and the key. "Don't screw up, kid."

David nodded. "Fine. Then I believe we're ready to adjourn." He considered for a moment how long it would take him to get into his exo-suit. "We'll reconvene in ten minutes in the courtyard."

Matt's phone beeped. He withdrew it from his pants pocket flipped it open. The room stilled. "Bluestone."

He listened for several seconds, nodding his head. "Yeah. That's right. No. Don't call her parents. They'll only worry. I'll be down there in a few minutes." He snapped the phone shut mindful of Goliath's anxious posture. "She's awake. They want to keep her overnight for observation but she's threatening to leave. I've got to get down there and talk her into staying."

The gargoyle leader smiled slightly despite his worry at his mate's characteristic bullheadedness. "Tell her we will find the impostor, Detective. We will bring her to justice!"

He looked down at Jeannie. "Look, I can't risk you ending up in the line of fire and I don't want to leave you here. Will you come with me to the hospital? I'll get my partner settled and then we can go to the precinct to take your statement."

Jeannie nodded. Matt watched as she eyed Owen Burnett warily. He was busy giving a last minute lecture to Danny and had shown no interest in her after his odd pronouncement in the Great Hall. "Of course. I'll do whatever you wish me to."

"Good," Matt said firmly. "Don't worry, Goliath. I'll handle Elisa. You go bring your daughter home."

The others filed out of the room to collect their radios and make final preparations. Matt resisted the urge to offer Jeannie his arm and instead settled for touching her lightly on the shoulder indicating they should leave as well. He promised himself that before the night was through they'd have a talk about her ears and why she called Owen Burnett 'Sir'.

* * * * *

"That's gotta be it, Goliath. Look, there's the billboard." Lexington pointed to a spot in the distance, indicating a low, industrial-looking building. 

Not far away a train whistle pierced the air, two long blasts sounding over the distant rumbling of wheels on tracks. Brooklyn checked the chronometer built in to his gauntlet. "And there's the 11:30, right on time."

Goliath curled his talons into the low parapet that encircled the rooftop, gouging marks into the concrete beneath them. He found the minor destruction cathartic, that it, much like the glide from Manhattan to this industrial section of New Jersey helped him work off the anger over his last, ill-timed confrontation with Ptah, who had insisted on raising the issue of the eggs even as they were preparing to leave to rescue Angela. Why the old functionary had broken the boundaries of diplomatic protocol and come to New York was a question that plagued Goliath since his arrival, though the gargoyle leader had scarce time over the last few days to contemplate Ptah's motivations or his stubborn insistence. He only hoped that the old gargoyle would be gone by the time they returned to the castle.

He flexed his talons again ignoring the crumbling dust that rained down on the sidewalk. Like many of its neighbors, the two-story brick building looked to have once been a factory. The few windows it had were dark, most likely painted over from the inside. From the center of the roof rose a pair of tall, long-dormant chimneys, and beyond them stood a small slant-roofed structure that indicated the location of the stairs providing access to the roof. "We must use stealth," he intoned at last. "It appears abandoned, but if Angela is inside, she is probably being well guarded."

"When we find her, how will we know it's really her?" Everyone turned to look at Delilah. The clone raised her chin. Her alert, tense posture was reminiscent of her human mother's. "Matt and the boy said this new clone is identical to Angela in every way."

Sata fingered the hilt of her katana. "We will have to remain wary, that's all. We must not allow the impostor to fool us again." 

"Owen is in position," David announced. His voice echoed eerily from inside the silver and red helmet of his exo-suit. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

Goliath tore a small hunk of concrete from the wall and crushed it into gravel in his fist as he thought of his Elisa lying in the hospital, injured at the talons of Anton Sevarius's latest creation. "Yes," he answered. "Let's go. Xanatos, you are with me. We will enter by way of the roof. Lexington, you and Delilah take the front entrance. Brooklyn…"

"Me and Sata, back door. Got it, Goliath." The brick red gargoyle threw open his wings and hopped up on the low wall. His jade green mate was right behind him. "Let's roll, guys."

The low roar of the jet engine as David fired up his exo-suit's propulsion system covered the sound of wings catching air as, one by one, the gathered members of the clan followed their Second's lead. "Fox is going to be sorry she missed this after I tell her about it," he commented as he pulled up alongside Goliath.

The burly lavender gargoyle grunted an incoherent reply. Broadway was still in Los Angeles with the multibillionaire's wife, both still blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding on the other side of the continent. For Broadway's sake, he hoped the story that would be related later over the videophone would have a happy ending. Goliath watched as his clanmates peeled off in pairs from the loose formation, banking away to swing wide, surreptitious arcs toward their assigned targets, and thought again of Angela. Last night, he'd been ready to believe the worst about her. Now, however, it seemed that his beloved daughter may have never been more than a pawn in the latest of Dr. Anton Sevarius's insane schemes. Just as she had been five years before, when the man had gone fishing in the frigid waters of Loch Ness, using her as live bait and nearly drowning her in the process. Goliath pulled his wings in tight, his eyes flashing white as he gave in to the worry of what Sevarius might do this time and dove headlong for the rooftop.

He landed with a hard thud, throwing his wings open and skidding to a short stop in the layer of loose gravel that covered the roof. He crossed the distance to the stairway door in two long strides, and his taloned hand was on the knob by the time Xanatos set down beside him. "What happened to 'we must use stealth'?" the man questioned archly.

Finding the knob locked, Goliath growled and instead sank his talons into the door itself, tearing it easily from its hinges. "If Sevarius has Angela," he rumbled as he tossed it aside, "every second counts."

Xanatos lifted his arm and turned on a high-powered searchlight, shining it down the darkened stairwell. He couldn't blame the big gargoyle for his eagerness. If it were Alex who'd been kidnapped, he'd be just as anxious to charge in. "We'll find her, Goliath. Whatever it takes."

* * *

"C'mon, peeps, what's the hold up?" The young halfling with the _Blade_ style haircut leaned out the driver's side window of the van, scanning the alley behind him for his two companions. "Yo, c'mon, you guys. Quit playin'. We gotta bust a move outta here 'fore it's too late!"

"It already is." The young man jerked his head around at the sound of the gravely voice, but had no time to react. He caught only a glimpse of white hair, glowing eyes, and a red beak before a four-fingered fist struck him sharply in the temple. Brooklyn thumbed the latch and opened the driver's side door, letting the now unconscious body slump from the vehicle. Grabbing him by the scruff of his jacket, Brooklyn hoisted him aloft and inspected his ears. They were pointed. Disgusted, he held him at arm's length and stalked to the rear of the van. "Here's another one."

Sata looked up at her mate as he lay the dozing halfling down. "The more the merrier, as they say." She tossed him a length of rope. "Tie him up with the other male," she instructed. 

Brooklyn nodded and went to work. "Either Sevarius is really scraping the bottom of the barrel, or these guys are getting easier to beat."

Sata paid her mate's comment no mind. She double-knotted the thick rope she'd used to bind the wrists of the female halfling she knelt astride, then shifted her weight and rolled the girl over on her back. "Now," she said, tugging away the cloth that had been pushed into the young woman's mouth as a makeshift gag, "I'm going to ask this question one more time. Where is Angela-chan?"

The young woman squirmed, clearly uncomfortable in the expertly tied bonds that Sata had applied at her elbows, wrists, knees, and ankles. Her eyes flitted to her unconscious companions, who Brooklyn was in the process of hog-tying, and back to the jade green gargoyle who loomed over her, fangs glimmering in the pale street light. Sata couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy. The poor girl couldn't have been more than seventeen, and she looked terrified. Right now, though, she didn't have time to waste on pity. Angela was missing, and this halfling might know where she was. Sata hissed, baring her teeth with eyes flashing red, and at last the young halfling relented. "Inside," she muttered. "The girl's downstairs."

Sata smiled, her expression going from ferocious to pleasant. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it." She patted the girl gently on the shoulder with a taloned hand, then laid her fingers just beside her neck and pinched. The halfling teen barely had time to gasp before she went out like a light.

"You've really gotta teach me how to do that some day," Brooklyn said as he helped Sata to her feet. 

The Japanese gargoyle rose, frowning worriedly. "This confrontation was hardly a challenge. I thought this Doctor Sevarius was more wily, but he uses children to guard his interests. These three are halflings, but they are not trained warriors. That girl is no older than Danny, and no more skilled, either."

Brooklyn jerked open the rear door of the van, intending to check it for any more halflings, but found the cargo area tightly packed only with cardboard boxes and jumbled furniture. The beaked gargoyle joined his mate in frowning. "I don't think these guys were left as guards, Sata." He moved his wing, allowing her a glimpse at the hastily loaded van. "It looks like someone's moving out."

* * *

Lexington backed up a few paces from the door, squaring his shoulder in preparation. "Okay, Delilah. On the count of three. One… two…"

The white-haired clone roared and spun, delivering a roundhouse kick that sent the heavy double doors flying inward, shattering them from their hinges. "Three," she growled. She sniffed at the air, peering into the darkness that lay beyond the ravaged doorway as Lexington ambled up beside her.

"I guess that way works, too," he said. His ears twitched as he joined her in staring into the darkness. "No alarm. That's not normal." He switched to a thermal imaging scan, but saw only the same long, empty corridor that the night vision view had revealed.

"Maybe it's a silent alarm." Delilah led the way, drawing her wings in and stepping carefully around the splintered timbers as she entered. The web-winged gargoyle followed, taking to all fours and hopping over the fresh pile of debris. He stayed on her heels, keeping alert as they moved slowly down the dark central hall. 

They had gone about twenty yards before they came to a four-way juncture where the corridor they were in met another at right angles. Delilah halted, gesturing with an outstretched arm for Lexington to do the same. The hybrid female inclined her head, sniffing the still air once again. "She's been here," she stated quietly. "Very recently."

"Who?" Lexington asked. "Angela, or the impostor?"

"I can't tell. It could be either one, or even both." She turned her head, trying to discern in which direction the trail grew stronger. "If the fake Angela is indeed a clone, she will have the same scent as the real one. Just like you and Brentwood do."

Lexington blinked. "We do?"

Delilah nodded. "This way," she stated, pointing to the passage that continued ahead. They had gone another twenty yards, arriving at the stairwell, when a voice sounded in Lexington's ear. 

"Lex, this is Brooklyn. Do you copy?"

Lexington touched his ear. "I'm here. What's up?"

"Sata and I are in the basement. We've found something. Looks like there was a lab set up down here, but the place has been cleared out."

"This whole building looks like a ghost town," Lexington agreed. "We haven't seen anyone."

"Yeah, well, just get down here ASAP. We've got confirmation from a halfling we left tied up out back that Angela's still here. We haven't found her yet, but we have found a weird door with an electronic lock… and I've got a really bad feeling she may be on the other side."

Delilah was already starting down the stairs. "A _bad_ feeling?" Lexington questioned. 

"You'll see when you get here," Brooklyn replied darkly.

* * *

Goliath growled in frustration as he stared through a doorway into yet another sparsely furnished chamber. So far, a room-by-room search of the second floor had yielded only one hastily abandoned room after another. Danny had reported that Sevarius had recruited halflings to work for him and assist the impostor Angela, but the boy had not been certain on how many they might be facing. He and Xanatos had now counted enough beds to have made sleeping quarters for dozens of them, but it was impossible to tell how many of the rooms had actually been in use before everyone had vanished.

Xanatos frowned as he surveyed a vacated common area. A cable wire protruded from the wall, marking the place where a television had sat, but an old couch and a pair of reclining chairs had been left behind. Too bulky to bother with on such short notice, he surmised. "It appears that whoever was living here has flown the coop, Goliath." He double-checked the readout in his exo-suit's heads-up display, grateful that he was at least able to test the upgraded sensors if not the new weapons. "I'm not picking up any bio-signatures on this floor."

Goliath moved on to the next door and flung open. The flip of a light switched revealed only a Spartan, white-tiled rest room. "Keep looking," he growled. "She has to be here somewhere."

"Guys, this is Brooklyn. Do you copy?"

The voice through the radio earpiece jolted Goliath back from the edge of panic. He raised his hand to his ear, but Xanatos was a split second ahead of him. "Xanatos here. Go ahead."

"We've got her." The former Timedancer glanced over his shoulder, giving a quiet sigh of relief as he watched Delilah and Sata help a dazed and disheveled Angela from the stifling, coffin-like chamber into which she'd been sealed. The two females were keeping close to her, giving gentle words of comfort and sheltering her from view of the two males with their wings as Delilah gave up her jacket and Sata created a makeshift wrap out of her own outer garment. "She's safe now, Goliath," he intoned, knowing that the worried clan leader was listening. Delilah drew her half-sister into a winged embrace, and he could tell from the way the lavender female's shoulders shook that she was sobbing. 

Brooklyn traded a glance with Lexington, who stood quietly at his side. They had both only gotten a brief glimpse of Angela after the web-winged gargoyle had cracked the computerized lock on the strange closet-sized chamber. She had been nude, her hair matted and her skin pale and glistening with sweat. Thick leather straps had held her in place, an obscene red rubber ball had filled her mouth, and pure shame had filled her reddened, tear-stained eyes. The other females had stepped in immediately, Sata taking charge and Delilah acting to assist in spite of the unexplained hesitation that had overcome her initially at seeing the odd confinement chamber. "Thank the dragon Goliath wasn't here to see her like that," Lexington muttered. 

Brooklyn nodded quietly in agreement. Angela had already suffered enough. The least they could do now was allow her to keep what remained of her dignity. The beaked gargoyle cued on the radio one last time. "Repeat, Angela is safe. We'll meet you back outside."

"Roger that. Xanatos out." The armor-clad billionaire clapped his hand on the clan leader's shoulder. "Let's go, Goliath. Owen will be waiting for us."

Goliath stared indecisively at his former enemy turned ally, his mind awash with conflicting emotions. His worst fears had been thankfully averted. His daughter had been found alive, and was safely back in the capable hands of her clanmates. The impostor, however, and the man who had created her were both still free. It was clear now that they had fled ahead of the clan, leaving Angela behind as a distraction. She'd been used again, a pawn until the end. Goliath's right hand clenched into a fist. "Elisa _will_ receive justice," he intoned, "as will Angela."

Xanatos nodded. "Yes. But that's a battle for another night. Right now, Goliath, your daughter needs you." Without another word, he leveled his arm at the boarded-over window of the common room and fired a blast from his laser cannon. Goliath sheltered himself with a massive wing as the debris flew. As the dust settled, he looked up to see the night sky beckoning. "Shall we?" Xanatos asked, gesturing to the newly made exit.

"Yes," Goliath replied at last. "Let's leave this place."

* * *

Dr. Anton Sevarius blinked as the fireball erupted from the second floor of the low building that stood two blocks away. "Goodness," he said. "I thought we were done with the Fourth of July." Edging closer to the window, he continued to peer surreptitiously through a gap in the mini-blinds, watching as Goliath and his former employer made their exit. "They're leaving," he muttered. "That can only mean the others must have found her. Excellent."

"You really think this will work, don't you?" Candy queried.

Sevarius smiled. "Why should it not? We've given them back their precious Angela. Albeit, she's a bit worse for the wear, but that only makes the pot sweeter. That's the beauty of Jezebella's plan. Between dealing with their poor traumatized clanmate and the city soon launching into an upswing of anti-gargoyle sentiment… Goliath and the others will barely have a spare moment to worry about us."

The halfling woman crossed her arms. "I hope you're right, Doctor. Otherwise we're all fucked."

The geneticist chuckled. "You worry too much, my dear. Jezebella will do her part. You just concentrate on doing yours."

"You mean doing everything I can to make life a living hell for the gargoyles?" Candy smile maliciously. "I'm looking forward to it."

* * * * *

"Go on, Daniel. She was asking for you." Owen held the door open and stood aside, allowing the boy admittance to the room.

Danny entered hesitantly. He had gotten only a quick glimpse of Angela when the others had brought her out. Delilah had been carrying her, cradled in her arms, and Sata had been right at her side. Owen had met them bearing a large blanket, and had taken only one look at her before bundling her into the back of the second van. Xanatos and Goliath had landed just then, but only Sata and Delilah had been permitted to accompany her back to the Eyrie. The rest of the clan had followed by wing, but he'd been forced to wait behind, and make the return trip by ground after Xanatos and Owen had finished collecting three new halfling prisoners. 

Danny didn't envy their fate, but he'd been too worried about Angela to feel like debating the point. She'd looked so frail… so weak… so vulnerable. He was afraid to even imagine what torments she had suffered at the hands of her impostor sister, and he wondered now if she would blame him for being so easily duped. It was with trepidation that he approached her bedside. Angela lay in a hospital bed, reclined against several thick pillows. Delilah was still sitting protectively at her side. He could only suppose that she had never left. She held one of Angela's hands in her own, squeezing it reassuringly, while stroking Angela's hair gently with the other. The clone lowered her head as he approached, whispering something to her clanmate, and Angela turned her head to look at him.

"Danny," she breathed. Speaking the word seemed to take extraordinary effort, and the boy moved quickly to her side to take the taloned hand she struggled to raise into his own two hands. She smiled weakly, and he smiled back, even as he noticed the white gauze bandages that encircled both of her wrists and the purpled bruises on her neck, cheeks, and under her eyes. "You're okay," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "Thank the dragon."

"Angela, I'm so sorry. I…"

"You saved me," she muttered, squeezing his hand. "I knew you would come through for me, Danny. Thank you." Her eyes fluttered closed a moment later, the exhaustion of her long ordeal claiming her at last. 

Delilah trailed her talons over Angela's brow ridges and smiled gently at Danny. Emboldened, he imitated the gesture, and squeezed Angela's hand one last time. "Is she going to be okay?" he asked. 

"In time," Delilah replied. The white-haired gargoyle regarded her half-sister fondly, and reached out again to smooth a stray piece of sable hair back from where it obscured the ornate hair clip that had been a gift from Broadway on their mating night. Miraculously, Angela had held on to it, despite the theft of the remainder of her meager possessions, and the clone couldn't help but smile at knowing she'd be spared at least one small trauma. "She's been through a lot these past two nights. And the doctors gave her some medication. For now, we should let her sleep." She uncurled her talons from Angela's hand and rose to escort Danny out. "The sun will heal her body. Whatever wounds remain… the clan will be there for her."

Danny looked up at the other gargoyle, noticing for the first time how much she truly looked and sounded like the human policewoman he and Jeannie had seen at the bus station. What was it in her past, he wondered, that made her so sensitive to what Angela had just been through? "I wish I could stay," he said. He realized only as he said it how ironic the statement was. Until a short while ago, he'd never imagined Xanatos would allow him to leave. Now that he could, though, he strangely found he was hesitant.

Delilah placed a hand on his shoulder as she pulled the door shut, leaving Angela to spend the few hours remaining until sunrise resting. "Trust me, Danny," she said, "Angela will understand."

* * * * *

"A clone of Angela?" Fox frowned worriedly and shifted in her chair. She was still dressed in her day clothes, a finely tailored royal blue skirted suit over a white, high-collared blouse. She hadn't had time to change after getting back to the hotel. She'd been trying to reach David ever since hearing the first news reports from New York, and run interference with Broadway in between calls to keep him from hearing the same. At least until she knew what was going on. "How is that possible, David? I thought we knew about all the clones he made for Thailog."

"We did," David replied. "Evidently there's a new girl in town. New and improved, I should say. She even has the same coloring as Angela." 

Fox considered the implications of the news quietly for a moment. "That's definitely going to make this harder to spin control. Especially if the police are still looking for Angela." She ran a hand over her forehead, brushing the hair back from her eyes. "Do we know yet what kind of report is going to be made?"

David ceased pacing and turned to face his wife on the large monitor. "Not yet. But Detectives Maza and Bluestone are in charge, so hopefully they should be able to help control things from that end once Elisa gets out of the hospital."

The auburn-haired woman shifted in her seat again. "Elisa was injured?"

"Yes," David replied. "By the clone. Elisa thought she was Angela, and was trying to arrest her. The clone had different ideas." David sighed, deciding now was as good a time as any to let the cat out of the bag. "Elisa's not the only one she hurt, either, Fox. The things you heard about on the news… that's only the beginning of the trouble she's caused. Last night, she kidnapped Angela and attempted to trade places with her. Tonight, we managed to get the real Angela back. She's in the infirmary now." 

Fox recoiled in shock. "My god, David. What happened?"

"We're not sure yet. She was in pretty tough shape. Owen told me he could detect residual magic, like she'd been worked over by a halfling, but the doctors say she should make it to sunrise." His expression turned dark as he went on, urged to continue by the look of quiet horror in his wife's green eyes. "When Brooklyn and Lexington found her, she was locked in some kind of isolation chamber... with the life support turned off. I don't know if the clone was responsible for putting her in there, or if it was Sevarius's doing. But if they hadn't found her when they did, she very well may have suffocated." He paused, feeling faintly guilty for sharing with Fox information that he had yet to divulge to Goliath. There was still more to tell, of course. Sector 13. But that could wait until Fox was home. "Curse that man," he added. "It's times like these I wish I'd never met Anton Sevarius."

Fox did her best to absorb the startling news and compose herself. "What should I tell Broadway?" she asked quietly. "He's going to want to talk to her. He's going to want to rush home, and be by her side."

David regarded his wife earnestly. He could tell from the lines that tugged at the corners of her mouth that Broadway wasn't the only one who would be in favor of calling off the final day and night of the trip. "Tell him the truth," he answered. "She's resting now. But you can fly home today, and he can be there when she awakens tonight."

Fox nodded. "I'll call the airport. Tell them to get our plane ready. We'll be on our way before sunrise here."

* * * * *

Matt sighed and glanced over at the pretty young woman who sat staring wistfully out the car window at the pre dawn city. So many questions he still wanted to ask. But the night had been a full one and there had been no time. Even as they drove toward the inexpensive motel Jeannie had insisted on instead of Matt's apartment, which he'd offered, the spin machine was whirling into high gear. By first light the newspapers would be screaming headlines like "Robot Gargoyle Assaults Teen and Cop".

Elisa had done her part, swearing to Captain Chavez that the green sparks she saw had come off the gargoyle, not the boy. Danny, once tipped, had done the same and Jeannie had backed him up. Together they had spun a version of the truth that would clear Angela and leave the conspiracy groups buzzing with speculation on who was behind such a nefarious scheme.

Even Goliath and Xanatos had done their part. The raid in New Jersey had yielded some of the missing pieces of test equipment, discarded in haste during the their quarry's escape. It wasn't much. But it gave the New Jersey cops called in on an anonymous tip something to offer their New York brethren and, in turn, a lead for Matt and Elisa to follow that had nothing to do with the Manhattan gargoyles.

If it wasn't for his partner lying contused and concussed in a hospital bed and the teenage boy sleeping in the back seat of the Fairlane, Matt would score the evening a nine.

As it was, it was more like a five. "Jeannie," he said, breaking the silence.

She broke her contemplation of the city and looked over at him. "Yes, Matthew?"

"Are you sure you're doing the right thing?" He hitched a thumb toward the back seat.

Jeannie nodded. "You do not trust his kind. And you worry. I understand. But Danny and I are much alike. We have both known servitude in unjust causes. We have both been used against our wills. And we both deserve to make amends."

Matt's eyes narrowed. "You said 'his kind'. So you're not a halfling. But you are of the Third Race."

Jeannie dipped her eyes to her lap. "Once, but no longer. I was divested of my powers and given a mortal life." Jeannie looked up and saw surprise in her companion's eyes. "It was of my choosing," she hastened to add. "I believe that is why I was given leave by the Puck to begin my quest and to take Danny with me."

It was an answer, Matt thought, just not much of one. He wanted to know more, but Jeannie seemed reluctant to delve into her past further. He decided to respect her reticence and changed the subject. "So, you're set on this. Leaving the city, hitting the open road?" A dispirited note crept into Matt's final syllables and he cursed himself. He'd wanted to sound more casual.

Jeannie nodded and placed her hand softly on his forearm. Stowed in the duffle bag in the trunk was the jar that had imprisoned her and still held her former mate. Out there, somewhere in the wide world, were hundreds like her who needed to be brought home to Avalon. "It is my destiny. And my duty."

Matt gave a reluctant shake of the head as he pulled up to the curb of the motor lodge. It was moderately clean and neat and an off duty cop stood at attention near the front door keeping an eye on the passing traffic. "All right. But promise me one thing. No matter where you are. No matter when it is. If you ever need help, call me." He thrust one of his business cards into her hands. On the back, in an impulsive scrawl, was his home phone and cell number.

"I will," she promised before leaning over the back of the seat and gently shaking Danny awake. The boy roused slowly, reluctantly, stretching and yawning in confusion. Matt supposed he was still getting used to the idea that he'd been paroled from the halfling prison. He blinked and scowled suspiciously at the uniformed cop and at Matt before opening the door and shuffling out.

Matt did too. He opened the trunk and hefted Jeannie's duffle, preparing to sling it over his shoulder so that he could walk them inside. Jeannie shook her head 'no' and slipped the strap from his arm. "Thank you, Matthew, but we need to go on alone."

Matthew. He didn't care for it when most people used that name. But he found, except for the circumstances, this time he didn't mind. He nodded, silent, unwilling to trust his voice as he watched Jeannie wrap a protective arm around the boy and disappear inside the motel and out of his life.

He waited a full minute, watching and hoping that she'd change her mind and realize that her place was in the city. Or just as improbably, ask him to come along on her quest. Anything really. But as the sun climbed higher, reddening the dawn sky, Matt shook his head ruefully and climbed back inside the Fairlane. He had known her for a night. And that was enough. His world was a better place because somewhere she was in it.

* * * * *

__

End


	3. Part 3

****

Home is a Dark Place, Part 3

Written by: Madame Destine  
Email: m_destine@hotmail.com

****

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters belong to their various creators: Buena Vista Television / The Walt Disney Company and The Gargoyles Saga, and they are used without their express knowledge or consent.

* * * * *

****

Hospital Wing, Castle Wyvern

"Ow, my head."

Broadway bolted up from the chair where he'd been waiting, Angela's hand in his, since sunset. "I'm here, babe."

Angela's eyes fluttered open and she winced as she struggled to sit up in the specially reinforced hospital bed. As she took in the beeping machinery and sterile scent of antiseptic her face became more confused. "Broadway? What happened? Where am I?"

"Shhh. Take it easy. I'll go get the doctor and let them know you're awake." Gently, the burly turquoise gargoyle disentangled his talons from his mate's. He stepped out of the confines of the treatment room and spoke softly to someone out of Angela's line of sight. She sank back against the pillows and closed her eyes again. Nonsensical fragments flashed against the back of her eyelids like scenes from a particularly awful movie. A short-haired woman with a shock prod. A coffin-like box. The walls closing in. Pain. More then she could endure. Oblivion. The welcome concern of family. More darkness.

A machine began to beep and a second hissed softly in response to the gargoyle's distress. A cocktail of sedative and pain killer flowed through a tube and into a pressurized delivery system. Angela felt a brief pressure as the contact forced the medication into her skin and her breathing began to slow into response as Broadway entered with Dr. Goldblum.

"Hey," Broadway said softly, wiping away the tears that streaked his mate's face. "It's all right. You're safe now."

Goldblum stood back noting the readings on the monitors while Broadway continued to cluck and soothe. After the numbers dropped to a more normalized level he cleared his throat and moved to the opposite side of the bed so that Broadway could continue to hold Angela's hand while he worked. "Better now?"

Angela nodded weakly. "Yes. Thanks. How did I get here? What happened?"

Broadway's broad features contorted with fresh worry. "You don't remember?"

Angela gave a small headshake. Even the minor movement was enough to induce pain. She winced again. "Bits and pieces. I can't make sense of them."

"Should I tell her, doctor?"

Goldblum checked the readings one more time. He adjusted the medication feed, gave his patient a critical, yet compassionate look and nodded. "Just the basics for now. There will be time for details later. After Angela has had a chance to recover." He smiled gently at the ailing gargoyle. "You're a lucky young lady, bubele. You should have that mate of yours buy you a lottery ticket. You're home and you're safe. And you will heal in time."

The mad kaleidoscope whirled again. A long ride in an enclosed van. First she was in chains then the image shifted and she was surrounded by Delilah and Sata murmuring soothing words. Angela lifted her head again long enough to look at the beeping monitors again. "I don't understand. I'm a gargoyle. Won't a day of stone sleep heal me?"

Goldblum shrugged expansively. "The shtarker who got a hold of you did a lot of damage. You've already slept away a night and a day and it has done you wonders. But I'm afraid that you may feel your injuries for several nights to come."

Broadway looked as if he might crumble under the weight of his despair. "She'll be okay though, won't she, doc?"

Goldblum gripped Broadway's shoulder as hard as his slender human hands would allow. The gargoyle was forced to meet the doctor's eyes. He saw nothing but sincerity as Goldblum replied. "She will be fine, my friend. But you must be strong for both of you. I'll have them send in some soup. You both need to eat and rest. Will you do that?"

Broadway couldn't imagine anything he wanted to do less. He wasn't hungry. He wasn't tired. He was angry and itching for action. He wanted to find Sevarius and make him pay. But under the doctor's steady gaze the anger diminished slightly. "I'll take care of Angela."

"Good man." Goldblum released the gargoyle's shoulder and rubbed his hand to release the cramp he'd given himself. "You'll both be out of here tomorrow night. But I want you, young lady, to take the rest of the week off. No patrols. You're lucky, you know," he added over his shoulder as he turned to leave. "If you'd been a human, that blow to your skull would have crushed it like an egg."

Pain continued to throb at Angela's temples. She smiled weakly at Dr. Goldblum. "I guess I should count my blessings."

Goldblum nodded. "Indeed you should." He glanced at his watch. "Oy, late again. My wife is going to kill me." The doctor removed his stethoscope and shoved it into the pocket of his lab coat as he strode hurriedly out of the medical bay.

Broadway noticed belatedly the doctor's yarmulke was embroidered with the catch phrase from an old song. "Don't worry, be happy!" it extolled.

"Yeah, right," he muttered in reply as he turned back to his injured mate.

"Broadway? What did happen to me?" Angela prompted in the ensuing silence.

The burly gargoyle's rage, so carefully damped down during the long flight back from California, re-ignited. "It's all my fault. I knew I never should have left you alone," he added bitterly. All the triumph he'd felt. All the basking in attention. All the thrill of being courted by a sympathetic media had turned to ash when Fox had delivered the news of Angela's ordeal.

"No," she insisted. "You can't blame yourself. Now tell me, please. What happened?"

Broadway swallowed. He stroked gently at Angela's dark hair. "Sevarius got a hold of you. You were lured into a trap in Central Park and replaced by a clone. She couldn't keep up the charade and it fell apart. The clone attacked a kid at the bus station. It turned out he was an escaped halfling from Sector 13 and he knew all about the plan."

"Danny?" Another fragment. Danny at her bedside pleading ignorance, begging forgiveness.

Broadway nodded. "Yeah, I think that's what his name was. Anyway, he said he didn't realize they wanted to hurt you. Your double sold him a bill of goods about being your poor pitiful sister rejected from the clan. Sob. Sob. They were going to kidnap you and force you to confess on tape so that she could take the proof to Goliath and regain her rightful place. Stupid kid."

Broadway shook his head in disbelief at the halfling teen's naiveté. "Anyway. Seems he got a clue finally as to what they really were up to and bolted. That's when things really started to fall apart. The clone couldn't have the kid running around loose. She tracked him down as he was about to leave town. They mixed it up, complete with fireworks, and Elisa and the rest of the cops showed up. The clone took Elisa out and escaped."

"Took out? How?"

Broadway nodded and his eyes glowed briefly. "The clone pretended to be you. Elisa let her guard down." He shook the image of a bleeding Elisa forcibly away. "She'll be okay," he said firmly. "They're supposed to release her from the hospital tonight."

"I want to see her," Angela said as she struggled upright.

Broadway pushed her gently back onto the pillows. "Nuh-uh. Rest tonight. Doctor said so," he insisted before resuming his narrative. "Anyway, the kid, he helped find Savarius's hideout. By the time Goliath and the others got there, the doctor and most of his goons were gone."

Broadway turned away and choked down the sob of rage that threatened to tear from his throat. After he was sure he could continue, he turned back. "They left you, baby," he blurted. He stroked the dark hair at Angela's bruised temple gingerly while he framed his thoughts. "They beat you, Ang. Beat you and left you for dead. Evidently there was some kind of a box. Brooklyn said if they'd gotten there a half hour later it might have been too late. I can't believe I almost lost you!" Broadway moaned as Delilah entered bearing a covered tray.

"Shhhh," Angela consoled. "This was not your fault, Broadway. We all face dangers every night. It's part of the world in which we live."

"Still, I should have known. I should have been there for you."

Delilah set the tray down on the bedside table and removed the lid. Underneath were two bowls of chicken soup, a stack of sandwiches and a bottle of pills. "The doctor said those were for headaches after you were released." The tawny skinned clone gave Angela a severe look reminiscent of her human mother. "Not before."

Angela nodded as her clan sister helped her sit up and handed her the soupspoon. After a pointed look at Broadway and a curt 'doctor's orders', the burly gargoyle picked up a sandwich and took a halfhearted mouthful.

"Thanks, Delilah. I'll take it from here," Broadway said, between bites of egg salad.

"Be sure she finishes all of it," the clone said severely. "Dr. Goldblum said she needs to eat if she is to recover her strength."

"Every bite," Angela promised. The soup was strangely soothing, she was forced to admit as she swallowed another spoonful. There was something reassuring about the steaming broth and velvety noodles. It reminded her of home and hearth. And children…

"Broadway?" Angela set down the spoon and tentatively picked up one of the sandwich triangles. "This attack. It's got me thinking."

"Yeah? About what? "Cuz if it's about finding Sevarius and this clone and beating them into paste, I'm on board."

Angela grimaced at the naked violence on her mate's face. "No. Not that. They will pay. But it was actually our egg that was on my mind."

Broadway dropped the sandwich he was about to stuff into his mouth back onto the tray. "Why? Has that Ptah guy been hassling you? I heard he showed up uninvited."

Angela touched her mate gently, reassuring him. "He came here to talk to us in person. I think he's really concerned about the future of our kind, Broadway. We need to respect that."

"You're not thinking of taking him up on his harebrained egg exchange scheme, are you, Ang?" Broadway gave her a close look, wondering just how scrambled her brains had gotten during her ordeal.

She shook her head. "No. I want our hatchling born here, just as you do. But we owe it to Ptah to hear him out. He's an elder and we should respect the person even if we can't accept his ideas."

"You're sure about this?" Broadway hated the idea but he didn't want to argue with his injured mate. She'd already been through enough. After a long pause he nodded. "All right. I'll find Ptah and he can make his pitch. But only if you'll promise me that you'll eat that sandwich instead of playing with it and then get some rest." He picked up the sandwich triangle and held it before her. Angela leaned forward and took a bite, then took the sandwich from Broadway and finished it and the last spoonful of soup herself. Suddenly exhausted by the effort, she sank back against the pillows as Broadway removed the tray.

"Rest now, love." Broadway got up, brushed a few wayward crumbs off the sheets and kissed Angela softly on the forehead. Quietly, so not to disturb his sleeping mate, Broadway crept from the room.

* * * * *

Ptah glanced out at the skyline and then up at the moon checking its position. His contact had found him while he slept away the daylight hidden in a secluded recess of the great park at the center of the city. While he slept they'd secured a leather pouch to a thong and hung it around his neck, a subtle reminder that they were always watching. The message inside the pouch specified their meeting time as three hours past sundown on the rooftop of the Empire State Building. Ptah had not known of such a place, but a page torn from a guidebook had been thoughtfully provided to supply the necessary landmarks.

He had spent the dregs of the previous night deep in thought, roaming the city after Goliath's curt dismissal. There had been another crisis, the details of which he'd been unable to discern. Whatever it was, even the human Xanatos had participated, encased in a gargoyle shaped contrivance that allowed him to fly. It was an interesting innovation and he wondered if his so far unseen contact would be as interested in it as he and the others appeared to be in one seemingly insignificant gargoyle egg.

Someplace in the darkness a rusty hinge creaked. Not loudly, but loud enough that the sound traveled to Ptah's desert sensitive ears. His hood flared in response to the intrusion and he dropped into a fighter's wary posture.

A light flickered in the shadows and then extinguished. His signal. Still cautious, Ptah moved toward the no longer visible flame. He scented the air. Human. A new one he'd never met.

"You can call me 'Van Winkle'," said a carefully modulated voice from the shadows.

Ptah's hood flared again. He had spoken to Van Winkle before. This human's voice was different. "I have met Van Winkle," Ptah stated. "You are not he."

"That was my brother," the voice replied smoothly. "I have many brothers and we are all 'Van Winkle'. We watch. We listen. We make things happen. We're going to make things happen for you. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Ptah? You want to be leader of your clan. We can make that happen. Or…" The smooth voice grew menacing without changing tone. "…we can see your dust blowing across the desert sand after your clan finds out the truth about your, how shall we say, divided loyalties. Your call."

"There is no need for unpleasantness, Van Winkle. Please wish your brother well when you next meet." Ptah curled his lip sardonically around the word 'brother' but made no further protest.

"Good," the unseen human replied. "Then to business. Do you have the egg?"

Ptah drew a deep breath. This Van Winkle didn't seem like the kind to take setbacks in stride. "I have made the initial request. It is…under consideration." A lie. But it left his lips easily. He had yet to exhaust all of his options. The lie would buy him time. "It is only a formality. They will agree to my petition. But appearances must be maintained."

"Consideration. That's good." Van Winkle's voice betrayed no feeling as it had moments earlier when he'd threatened Ptah. "So you expect to have the egg soon?"

Ptah nodded. "Yes, a matter of nights. The young couple has been separated as you might have heard. The male has been on a tour promoting the interests of gargoyles to the media."

"Yeah, that boy's gotten a lot of ink," Van Winkle replied. Ptah wasn't sure what the undertone was now. It sounded like irritation, but the unfamiliar colloquialism made it hard for him to be sure. "Sorry, you were saying?"

Ptah swallowed and continued boldly. "They wished to be together with the egg after he returns. Goliath, their leader, has granted this sentimental request." Ptah shrugged, getting into his lie. "We would not have allowed such a thing during my youth, but these are different times."

"Fine." Van Winkle sounded pleased. "Here. Catch." A small object sailed out toward Ptah and he caught it easily between his talons. "When you get the egg use this and dial * 22. Got it? On the keypad, the star symbol and then two, two. We'll tell you where to go from there."

Ptah stuck the phone in his belt pouch. "Have you any other instructions?"

"No. We're done here." There was a subtle movement in the shadows and Ptah could no longer discern Van Winkle's presence in the darkness. He moved out toward the edge of the rooftop and looked down. There was a closely-knit net several stories below and he wondered at its purpose. He pulled the telephone from his belt pouch and examined it closely. Small, black and plastic, it was tiny in his palm. He contemplated briefly dropping the device over the side and fleeing for parts unknown. But after several seconds the temptation passed. He had chosen his path the night he made a deal with the Illuminati. For good or ill he would complete the journey.

* * * * *

"Hey Cagney, did you miss me?" Elisa bent down and scratched the lean gray cat under the chin as he bumped against her knees. "He didn't give you any trouble did he, Matt?"

Bluestone was already busy in the kitchen unloading shopping bags and the paraphernalia from the hospital. He scowled at an ghastly mustard yellow pitcher and matching tumbler, considered dumping them, then changed his mind and stuffed them into the dishwasher as he replied, "Nah, he was a champ." He held up a small plastic bag. "Where do you want your medication?"

Elisa picked up the cat and took him with her as she sat down on the sofa. She watched her partner put away his care package of deli prepared heat-and-eat foods and single serving juice boxes and rolled her eyes just a little. "Just leave them on the counter. And stop fussing, Matt. If I want someone to obsess over me I'll call my mother."

"Never happen."

Elisa closed her eyes and sighed. Her head ached, she was missing a patch of hair where they had to stitch together a deep laceration, and her back and tailbone protested every time she moved. "Stupid rookie mistake."

"What was that?"

Elisa opened her eyes to find Matt leaning over her, a glass of water and a pair of white tablets in one extended palm. She blinked and realized she hadn't even heard him turn on the faucet or exit the kitchen. "Me. Stupid rookie mistake letting that clone of Angela's get the drop on me. I just never thought…"

Matt cut her off with an impatient glare. "Hindsight is 20/20. You thought you were dealing with Angela, someone you knew and trusted. How were you supposed to know she had a psycho clone? Now here," he said handing her the glass. "Take these."

"Jeeze. All right, already." Elisa held out her hand and her partner dropped the pills onto her palm. "But only if you'll tell me what happened at the warehouse in New Jersey."

Matt pursed his lips at his stubborn partner as he folded himself into an easy chair. "You're supposed to be resting. Not thinking about the case."

"Hey, I'm lying down, aren't I?" Elisa popped the pills into her mouth and took a quick sip of water to wash them down. "Do you think the captain bought the robot story?"

Matt sighed. "No reason not to. Most of the witnesses didn't really start to pay attention until the battle was in full swing, so they couldn't confirm or deny that Danny was actually the one throwing the power bolts. Where's your gun box?"

"Bottom drawer left, kitchen. Same as always, Why?"

"Just making sure you stay off the job. I've already got your keys and your piece from the hospital."

"Matt," Elisa scowled. "I'm not a child and I don't need a nursemaid. Are you going to tell me what you found or not?" She really did feel like ten miles of bad road, but she was damned if she was going to let that keep her out of the investigation.

Matt was already out of the chair and back in the kitchen before he spoke. "Look, it's all preliminary so far. Most of today was spent processing evidence and cross coordinating with the Jersey cops. We wanted to get things squared before the Feds start poking their noses in."

"Great." Elisa shook her head and winced. "Interstate trafficking statutes?"

"Yeah, that and they got wind that cloning was involved. Government is interested in that sort of thing too, you know," Matt said as he retrieved her backup gun and spare ammunition clips.

There was the sound of other drawers opening and closing and Elisa wondered if he was going to confiscate her kitchen knives as well. "At least leave me a barbecue fork so I can protect myself," she complained as her partner reentered the living room.

Matt pulled a face then checked his watch and the levity faded. "Look, I've got to get back to the station. Are you sure you'll be okay alone?"

"I'll be fine." Elisa pulled the comforter off the back of the sofa and tucked herself in. She glanced out the sliding glass doors onto the patio and judged the shadows. The day was slipping from late afternoon to early evening. "Goliath will be here soon."

"All right." Matt straightened his tie and ran his fingers through his short red hair using the reflection from a framed poster of The Maltese Falcon for a mirror. Your dinner's in the fridge and-"

"Matt," Elisa snapped, her pain and fatigue finally getting the better of her. "Go to work."

"Feel better," he said as tucked the gun box, but no kitchen knives, under his arm and exited the apartment.

Elisa nodded absently as Cagney settled in on her stomach. It felt good to be home. Away from the hospital with its constant undercurrent of tension, the relentless beeps and whirs of machinery and the harsh smells associated with sickness and death.

The codeine in the painkiller started to kick in and Elisa's eyes closed. She pulled the blanket closer and drifted off.

Medication induced sleep but not rest. Her bruised and battered psyche volleyed a fresh barrage of recriminations as she slipped into a dream. Angela stood before a mirror examining herself as Elisa watched. She turned towards the detective and the reflection smirked. "Sucker."

Angela, the real Angela, the gargoyle she had come to regard as part of her own family, wept. "How could you?" dream Angela cried. "How could you trust me so little?"

"I should have known," Elisa muttered as she jerked awake. The image of twin Angelas fragmented. "What is that?" she said even before opening her eyes. The smell assaulted her nostrils. Not the harsh smell of disinfectant, but the puerile stench of rotting food. "Ewww."

"Elisa? Are you all right? I did not mean to wake you."

"Goliath?" Elisa opened her eyes and looked up at her mate and the apparent source of the foul odor. He was covered with unidentifiable dark smears and stains. His left arm was torn from shoulder to elbow by a jagged cut. Not deep, but it had bled freely and was still in the process of clotting over. "What happened?"

The great lavender gargoyle shrugged. "A band of ruffians attacked a couple leaving a restaurant. They resisted when I attempted to apprehend them." He smiled smugly. "But not for long."

Elisa struggled against the effects of the medication and sat upright. "You're hurt. And you've got coffee grounds in your hair. Go take a shower. I'll get the first aid kit for that cut on your arm."

Goliath pushed his mate gently back onto the couch. "No, Elisa. I came here to care for you. Rest. I won't be long." He touched her softly on the temple and Elisa closed her eyes once more. She drifted back to sleep to the sound of running water.

Cagney yowled and batted at Elisa's nose. She opened her eyes once more and noticed for the first time that the doorbell was ringing. She struggled off the couch, dumping the cat onto the sofa along with the blanket.

Elisa peered through the peephole. "Oh great." Captain Chavez stood on the other side of the door, tapping her foot. Elisa opened the door. "Captain. This is a surprise." She gestured for the older woman to follow her inside.

"I know you're under doctor's orders to rest, Elisa, but I had a few points I needed to clear up about the attack at the bus station."

Elisa gestured toward the armchair and resumed her spot on the couch. "Uh, sure. Whatever you need." The water pipes groaned and Elisa paled. Goliath. Goliath was in the apartment taking a shower. She'd forgotten under the influence of pain and codeine. She needed to get Chavez out of the apartment. Elisa jumped to her feet and in her haste knocked over the coffee table. The decorative black and white painted ceramic vase, a gift from her sister Beth tumbled and broke as it rolled and hit the wall.

"Are you all right?" Chavez leaned forward. Concern etched creases along her forehead and her eyes narrowed. "You seem peaked."

"Yeah, I mean no. I mean, I am kind of tired," Elisa babbled. "Maybe we could do this another time."

"Elisa, are you all right?" Goliath stepped out the bedroom, his sable hair damp. "I heard a crash." A green and white bath sheet was wrapped around his waist, one end tucked hastily at the hip. He froze at the sight of Chavez. The police captain was sitting, one navy blue pants leg crossed neatly over the other, regarding her detective with a dismayed look.

"Hello," Chavez said mildly to Goliath. She uncrossed her legs and stood up. "Elisa, aren't you going to introduce us?"

"Excuse me, Elisa, I did not know you had company," Goliath rumbled. He tucked the tail of the towel more firmly into place as he stood otherwise frozen with indecision, unsure whether to brazen the situation out or flee for the safety of the bedroom.

Elisa said, "Captain Maria Chavez, this is Goliath, leader of the gargoyle clan. Goliath, this is Captain Chavez. My boss."

The pair regarded each other warily for a moment before Goliath advanced and took the much smaller human woman's hand carefully into his own. "Good evening, Captain." He glanced down at his impromptu attire then over at Elisa. Her eyes were closed and she was shaking her head 'no'. Quick sharp gestures that were obviously causing her pain. "I'm afraid I was imposing on your detective, I was involved in an altercation and had the need of her facilities."

"Would that have involved a quartet of juvenile delinquents left in a dumpster behind Mata Hari's?" Chavez inquired. "I heard a patrol car dispatched there on my way over."

"Uh, yes," the gargoyle confirmed. "When I encountered them they were attempting to relieve a lady and gentleman of their valuables."

Chavez glanced at the long cut on Goliath's arm. "That looks painful. You should take care of it."

Goliath regarded the jagged line that snaked down his arm and shook his head. "The injury is minor. One of the thieves landed a lucky strike with a box cutter. If you'll excuse me?" He retreated back into the bedroom, emerging less then a minute later in a fresh loincloth in place of the towel. In his absence, Elisa hadn't moved, but the Captain had picked up the fragments of pottery and was in the process of dumping them in a wastebasket. "Thank you again, detective for your kindness. He returned his attention to Chavez. "If you'll excuse me. I have duties to attend to."

"Just a minute, Goliath." Chavez's tone was businesslike. She dusted off her hands and stood toe to toe with the much larger gargoyle. "A member of your clan, Angela, was the model for the robot that attacked Detective Maza, is that correct?"

Goliath nodded uncertainly. "Her visibility as spokesperson for our clan has its risks. This was one we had not anticipated."

"I see." Chavez glanced at Elisa slumped on the couch. "I'd like to have a word with Ms. Angela. Just to wrap up a few details."

Goliath nodded. He seemed agitated at the mention of Angela, Chavez noted. "Of course. I can have her telephone you at the police station if you like."

Chavez shook her head. "I'd rather speak to her in person. Can I find her at the Eyrie Building?"

Goliath shook his head. "Not tonight. However if you call and ask to speak to Mr. Burnett he can schedule a time convenient to you both. Now, I must be going." The gargoyle turned to Elisa. "I hope you feel better soon, detective."

Elisa looked up, but did not meet his eyes. "Yeah. Thanks for stopping by."

Chavez waited until Goliath had slipped through the sliding glass doors before returning her attention to Elisa. "All right, detective. Clearly you're in no shape for a debriefing right now. And as much as I'd like to know why there was a gargoyle in your shower, I'm not going to ask you about that either. You're on leave until further notice."

"Captain!" Elisa protested as she took to her feet. The effort was too much and she swayed under an onslaught of vertigo.

"Medical leave," Chavez clarified in a taut voice. Elisa picked up on the implied message and held her peace. Once again, Chavez was cutting her a lot of slack. It wouldn't pay to push. "After you've been cleared for duty we're going to sit down and have a nice long talk about recent events. Is that understood, detective?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Get some rest."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"I'll let myself out."

Elisa didn't bother to watch as Maria Chavez let herself out of the apartment. She sat, slumped with her head in her hands, wondering how close her life was to blowing completely apart.

A tap at the window broke her reverie and she looked up. Goliath was standing by the balcony door wearing a sullen expression that no doubt matched her own. She gestured for him to come in.

"I waited on the rooftop until I saw your captain leave the building." He crossed to Elisa and sat down next to her on the sofa. "I am sorry, my Elisa, I did not know she was in the apartment."

Elisa shrugged. A new headache was blooming behind her eyes adding to the throb at the back of her head that the pain pills had haltered but not subdued. "She already knew I had dealings with you guys. They have a file at the station."

"Are you under some kind of investigation?" Goliath frowned and concern roughened his already deep baritone.

"I don't know," Elisa admitted. "Maybe. Look, it doesn't matter. It's not a crime to know you and I'm not gonna let them treat me like it is."

"You love your work. I will not let our relationship jeopardize your position."

Elisa sobered, her righteous indignation abruptly quelled. "It might be too late for that, Goliath. The captain knows I've held back about you guys in a big way. She's already warned me once and taken over the follow up on Angela's or rather, the clone's part in the genetics lab break ins because she thinks my judgment has been compromised."

"Is Angela still in danger?"

Elisa stood, too agitated to sit still. She swayed as the pain in her head hit a crescendo and nearly knocked the now bare coffee table over again. Goliath grabbed his lover and steadied her, cradling Elisa against his chest. "You are injured and tired. I will not have you upset yourself further over this."

"I've got to clear her once and for all, Goliath. It's the only way I can prove myself to the captain and protect the clan."

"You shall," Goliath replied. "But not tonight. Let me take you back to the castle. I can watch over you tonight and there will be Xanatos and his people to care for you during the day while I cannot."

"No," Elisa protested. "I can't. Don't you see that? What if the Captain catches me there? My credibility will be shot for good."

Goliath growled in frustration. How many times had they had this argument? "But why? Elisa you are my mate. You should be surrounded by your clan while you recover from your injuries."

Elisa ground her eyelids shut against the pain. "Please Goliath, I can't do this now. Can we just go to bed please? I need you to hold me for a while."

"Of course." Goliath swept his life mate off her feet, carried her into the bedroom and helped divest her of the light cotton scrubs she had borrowed from the emergency department. Two ice packs and more medication followed and after an hour of soothing Elisa finally drifted off to sleep.

* * * * *

"Angela, honored daughter of the Wyvern Clan," Ptah said as he bowed low over his hands. "It is a great honor to meet you at last."

Broadway had been intercepted by Ptah during his patrol over Central Park. The Egyptian had given him a song and dance about how he had left two night's prior to give the inhabitants of Wyvern a chance to deal with their crisis, before begging to be allowed to accompany his most honored companion back to the castle.

Broadway had let the Egyptian go on for several minutes before agreeing. He had wanted to talk to him anyway, or at least Angela had, and no one, including Brooklyn, who was responsible for keeping an eye on their guest, had known where to find him. Though his rookery brother had suggested maybe Goliath had told him to shove off once and for all, since something else had irritated their leader just prior to Angela's rescue.

Goliath wasn't around to ask. He had spent the day with Elisa and would probably continue to do so until she was well enough to return to work. No one at the castle minded. Brooklyn was a capable Second and Goliath worked himself too hard most of the time anyway. Elisa's downtime would give them both a break.

So Broadway had let Ptah yammer about 'begging a thousand pardons', and needing 'just a few moments of his, and the most honored Angela's precious time', before he had replied, "Sure, Ptah. Just keep it to the point."

Now Angela sat ensconced in Goliath's favorite wing-backed chair in the library listening politely as Ptah began his spiel. Broadway's initial impression pegged Ptah as a long winded type and he didn't want to give the elder gargoyle the idea that they were willing to sit around all night and listen to him gab. He stood at Angela's back, where he should have been the night she was kidnapped instead of posing for the cameras, ready to fend off the Egyptian if he got too pushy. So far though, it just seemed if he was going to bore them into submission.

"…your exploits as ambassador among the humans has made their way even to the far off deserts of my people."

Broadway crossed his arms impatiently. "Yeah, Ptah we get it. Angela is something special and I'm not chopped liver either. Could you get to your point? My mate has doctor's orders. She's supposed to be resting."

"Broadway, please," Angela chided. "The Elder is just trying to be polite." She smiled at the gargoyle while trying to get a feel for their guest. His serpentine characteristics made him appear somewhat cold, but there was something about his wide set eyes that offset that first impression. Ptah was obviously a gargoyle of many layers. "Please, Elder Ptah, won't you continue."

Ptah bowed at them both again. "Of course, a thousand apologies for my thoughtlessness. That you would see me at all after your harrowing ordeal is proof of your graciousness. I-"

"Ptah," Broadway warned again.

The elder quelled his next torrent of flowery speech and took a moment to compose himself. "Again my apologies. I have come before you tonight with a most serious proposal. You are a fine young couple and in your rookery is the first of what I am sure will be many strong sons and beautiful daughters."

"Yeah, we know that," Broadway said. "What does that have to do with you?" He stared at Ptah not really hiding the hostility he felt for the elder.

The Egyptian gargoyle pretended not to notice. "I mention this, young warrior, because while it is true that your clan will, in the fullness of time, be fruitful and multiply, the present finds you in a difficult place. You live in the midst of a vast city and the humans are somewhat mixed about their feelings toward you. I have heard of a group, the Quarrymen, who have made it their purpose to eliminate our kind, is that not true?"

"That's true," Angela admitted. "But they represent a very small minority among the humans."

"Yeah," Broadway seconded. "Most people like us just fine."

Ptah nodded and pursed his lips, considering the information. "And this city that you live in. Do you find it safe? I saw a human newspaper printed in my native Arabic. It spoke of dangerous radicals prepared to vent their rage on these towers of concrete and glass that make up your home."

"Bunch of nuts," Broadway snapped. "They could try, but they'd never pull off anything that'd matter. This is a great place to live."

"You are proud of your adopted home, Broadway, I understand that, my friend, and I mean no disrespect towards it or you. It is just I have lived a long time and I have seen many trials befall my own clan. Many losses. The most recent and lamented war, for example."

Ptah paced a bit back and forth over the richly embroidered carpet. He seemed hesitant about how to proceed with his argument. Broadway found himself wondering if it was because Ptah didn't believe in what he was trying to pitch, or he believed it so much he couldn't quite put things into words that wouldn't sound like he was talking down to them because they didn't get it.

"This alliance between our peoples. It made me think back to a time long ago when many gargoyle clans populated the deserts of my native lands. We had a custom, a tradition of bonding that I had hoped to offer to you."

"What kind of bonding?" Broadway asked suspiciously.

"The most sacred kind," Ptah replied, his voice low and serious. "A bond of trust. It is one that we have already offered to you."

"I don't get it," Broadway said flatly. "What are you talking about?"

Ptah took another turn around the rug considering his words. He began again. "Eggs from females of the Oasis clan are nestled alongside your own. It is proof that my people trust you with our most precious possession. Our future. Our lives. It is something that we have done freely. And yet…" He trailed off, taking several more turns around the carpet before continuing.

"And yet, what?" Broadway saw where Ptah was heading and didn't like it one bit. "You think we should just pack our egg up and send it along because you guys think it's a hot idea? Why should we?"

Ptah regarded Broadway with a level gaze. "I," he corrected himself, "we, those who lead the clan, understood that you might not understand our reasons for insisting that our eggs remain in the rookery here rather than be returned to Egypt with their mothers. We are aware that our own region of the world is not always the most stable. If something were to happen, if some catastrophe were to decimate our home, our clan would at least live on through the children fostered in other rookeries. There is wisdom in, how do the humans put it? Oh yes, not putting all of one's eggs in one basket."

"Yeah, so?"

Ptah shook his head. Again he paused as if deep in thought. Perhaps it was the dual languages that were troubling him, Angela mused, as the elder still seemed to have difficulty putting his thoughts into words.

"The war. Yes. Think about it, the war with the Old Ones. Your city was a center for attack then, was it not?"

Broadway's tail jerked against the floor. "Again, so what? We won and we bailed out you guys and half the other clans too. Remember?" the burly gargoyle huffed. "Radios, medical help, food and emergency shelters after the war. That doesn't count for anything?"

Ptah nodded. "Your aid was invaluable. But it has not come without a price, has it? The existence of other clans, that knowledge has been a dual-edged sword. It has left us all with new obligations, new responsibilities and for many the sudden changes necessary for this new world have been difficult ones.

"Would you have been happier if we'd left you to deal with the Unseelie and their minions by yourselves?"

Ptah held out his hands in a gesture of peace. "I am not suggesting any such thing. But I am, in my poor way, trying to explain that some of my people have been left feeling vulnerable and beholden to yours. It is an uncomfortable situation for a proud clan."

"Are you suggesting that we could damage the alliance between our clans if we don't participate in this egg exchange, Elder?" Angela asked quietly. One hand went to the filigreed hair clip she'd used to pull back her long sable hair and she stroked it pensively.

Ptah nodded. "There are some among my people who feel slighted that you would take our eggs but offer no compensation. This exchange would assuage those feelings."

Broadway's chest puffed up as his temper frayed. "Hey wait a minute. Those eggs weren't our idea. Your elder tried to foist a couple of your females off on Goliath and Lexington."

Ptah shook his head. "That was the doing of the Committee on Breeding. The World Council feels that we must all sacrifice, even personal happiness, if we are to survive as a people."

Angela's hand slipped from her hair clip to her temple and she closed her eyes as if in pain. "Please," she said after several moments. "Don't argue. That was a horrible time for us all."

"Ang? Hey, Angela, are you okay?" Broadway dropped from his adversarial posture to kneel at the side of his mate. "You don't look so good."

"My head." She looked up at Ptah and gave him a weak smile. "I need to think about what you've said, Elder. Can we talk again later?"

Ptah bowed deeply. "Of course. However, I find myself in a most awkward situation. In my haste to beg an audience I'm afraid that I have offended Goliath. I believe he would find my continued presence in your home distasteful. Perhaps we can arrange to meet-"

"My father has been upset," Angela said as Broadway helped her to her feet. "It tends to make him somewhat short-tempered. Please, remain here as our guest." She looked up at Broadway as if waiting for him to second her.

Finally, he took the hint. "Sure, stay here with us. It's a lot easier than tracking you down in the park." Angela blanched and her knees buckled. "Now, if you'll excuse us Angela needs quiet."

"Of course." Ptah bowed. "Would it be permitted for me to occupy the same rooms I held previously?"

Broadway, busy settling his mate more comfortably back into her chair nodded absently. "Yeah, fine. Whatever you need. We'll get back to you when we've made up our minds."

"Thank you," Ptah said as he bowed again. "You are both truly wise and considerate people. If I may do anything at all-"

Broadway stood up and took Ptah by the elbow spur and hissed directly into the side of his earless head. "Yeah, you can stop talking and leave my mate alone. Now clear out!"

Ptah glared back briefly then dropped his eyes. He left the library without another word. Broadway turned back to Angela. "Let me take you up to our room. Or back to the medical ward."

"No, I'm fine." Though the hand that rubbed fitfully at her temple suggested otherwise. "I just need my pills. Help me," she tugged at the strings of her belt pouch. "I can't seem to get it open."

"Hey," Broadway pulled the pouch gently away from his mate. "Relax. Let me do that. You need two, right?"

She nodded and held out her hand, downing the medication as soon as it was dropped into her palm. "I'll be fine. I'm just going to rest here for a while, okay?"

"Sure. Will you be okay, by yourself?"

Angela gave her mate a wan grin. "I'll be fine, silly. I guess Ptah was a bit much to take."

"So why won't you let me tell him to take a hike?" Broadway grumped.

The tiny smile that tugged previously at Angela's lips faded. "Because, my love. As longwinded as he is, Ptah has a point. We can't dismiss him out of hand so lightly." At Broadway's incredulous expression she said, "Please, we can talk about this later, can't we?"

The burly turquoise gargoyle nodded, grudgingly. "Sure." He leaned forward and kissed his mate on the cheek. "I need to check on some stuff with Brooklyn. You rest, okay?"

"Promise."

Broadway hesitated, watching as his mate shifted in the big wing-backed chair. When it seemed that she had settled as best as she could and her eyes fluttered shut, he exited quietly from the library.

* * * * *

"Brook, hey there you are." Broadway said as he entered the clan's entertainment center. Brooklyn was sprawled on the couch with the twins, refereeing a popcorn fight. A contemporary retelling of a World War II drama blared on the wall sized screen and periodically Graeme would pause, stare transfixed at the aerial battle underway, and then break out into gales of laughter before launching another barrage at his sister.

"Who do they think they're kidding?" Graeme guffawed as a pilot grimaced manfully and forced his plane into complex aerial maneuver. "No one with half a brain would try that stunt so close to land. He'd be toast before he could compensate!"

"Everybody's a critic," Brooklyn teased his son, who ducked under a cushion as Arianna launched a retaliatory strike. His smile faded as he caught the tense vibe coming off of his rookery brother. "Hey guys, that's probably enough revisionist history for one night." He brushed popcorn out of his long white hair. "Why don't you go see if Bronx and Nudnik need some exercise, okay?"

The twins groaned in tandem then bounded out of the room leaving the two older gargoyles alone. Brooklyn picked up the popcorn bowl off the floor and started to sweep up the detritus of the battle. "What's going on, bro? You look stressed."

Broadway dropped into Hudson's favorite recliner and sighed. "Yeah, I guess I am. Angela insisted on talking with Ptah. I'm not sure I trust this guy, he's kinda oily, ya know? Like Xanatos back in the old days, only he talks more."

A frown pursed Brooklyn's beak and his eyes narrowed. "Yeah, I kinda got that too. He seems sincere, but there's always just something… I dunno, off about the guy."

Broadway stared at his hands, twisting them anxiously in his lap, trying to put his misapprehension into words. He nodded at the older gargoyle's assessment. "Yeah, that's it. I mean sure, everything he says about saving the clan by spreading the eggs around makes sense, if you think about it one way, and so does that stuff about trusting the other clan to care for each other's eggs, but then there's a part of me that says he's full of baloney."

Brooklyn set the bowl on the end table, resettled his wings and sat down on the couch. "But you told him 'no', right? That you and Angela weren't willing to go along with his proposal?"

"Angela put him off. Told him we needed to think about it." Broadway shook his head. "I'm not sure, but I think she actually bought his story."

"Nah," the brick red gargoyle assured his brother, "it's more likely that Angela's just playing him at his own game. I don't know if you've noticed, but your mate is turning into quite a politician. She probably thought it would make him feel better if she didn't blow him off after his pitch. That way you guys don't come off as hasty or insensitive."

Broadway grimaced. "Insensitive? This is our egg were talking about!" He shook his head. "I wish that were it. I mean, that's what we agreed to when we decided that we'd talk to him, but afterward… you know how sometimes you can practically see the wheels turning in somebody's head when they're thinking really hard?" Brooklyn nodded. "Yeah, well that's what I saw happen when Angela was listening to Ptah." He got out of the chair and his wings flared in agitation. "I dunno, maybe she conked her head even harder then Dr. Goldblum thought and her brains are scrambled. She's still getting terrible headaches, like he said she might."

"I doubt that," Brooklyn said as wheels began to turn in his own head. He tried not to sound too distracted as he added, "Angela is sensitive to other people's feelings. I'm sure she was trying to see things from all sides so that she could figure out the best way to let Ptah down easy. I mean, he's really pushed hard to make this happen."

"Yeah, the guy just can't take 'no' for an answer," Broadway shook his head. "I wonder what his trauma is."

Brooklyn looked thoughtful. "You know, that's a good question." He rose, crossed to his rookery brother's side and clasped his shoulder. "Don't worry, Broadway. Your egg isn't going anywhere. Angela will make nice with Ptah and then send him back to Egypt wondering why he proposed the idea in the first place."

Broadway's doubt was plain. "You're sure? Do you know this for positive?"

Brooklyn shrugged. "Nothing in life is 100%, Broadway. But I think I know Angela well enough that nothing is going to stand between her and her egg. Not even world politics."

Broadway seemed to visibly lighten for the first time since he entered the room. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Brook. I guess I need to have more faith."

Brooklyn rubbed his brother's bald turquoise head affectionately. "Trust me, bro, it never hurts."

Broadway grinned back as his tension abated for the first time since he'd heard about Ptah's arrival at the castle. I'm gonna go find Angela a present. You want to come?"

Brooklyn nodded. "Sure. I could use a little air." To himself he added. "It always helps me think."

He flung a brick red arm around Broadway's shoulders and together the two rookery brothers headed out of the castle.

* * * * *

There was a knock at the patio door. Goliath looked up from his book and glanced over at Elisa. The noise had not disturbed her. She was still asleep, one hand curled next to her cheek, dark hair spilled over a mountain of sofa cushions and bedroom pillows. He looked up and found Angela, her fist poised to tap on the glass again. He placed the copy of "Twice Told Tales" on the end table and got up, shaking his head at the younger gargoyle so that she would not knock again. "Angela. What are you doing here?" he whispered as he unlocked the sliding glass door. "Is everything all right?"

She nodded, but her eyes were glossy as if she had been or was close to crying. "I needed some air and I've been worried about Elisa."

The detective stretched and blinked at the mention of her name. "Goliath?" she murmured. "Angela," she added as she noticed the girl. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, my Elisa," her lover soothed. "All is well."

Elisa was squinting as she sat upright. "Angela, could you hit the dimmer switch? It's kind of bright in here."

The younger female nodded and dialed down the setting on the wall switch. As the lights faded Elisa removed the hand that shielded her eyes. "Thanks, my eyes are kind of sensitive." Her face narrowed in worry as she observed Angela more closely. The younger gargoyle, from her tense posture to her tightly drawn mouth seemed to be under all kinds of pressure. "How are you holding up?" She gestured for Angela to sit down and then tipped her head toward the kitchen. Goliath caught her unspoken request and stepped out of the room to give the pair a moment.

"I'm fine," Angela assured her friend. "I wish everyone wouldn't worry so! They're just headaches! The doctor said they'd go away eventually." She lowered her voice. "It's making me feel kind of smothered the way everyone is hovering. The only one who came close to treating me normally is Ptah."

"Ptah?" Goliath growled from the kitchen. He stepped back into the room with pills and a glass of water for Elisa. "I told him to leave the castle."

Elisa scowled at her mate as Angela looked down at her hands. "I know. And I hope you won't be angry, Father, but I invited him back. At least until I gave him our final decision."

"I have already spoken for the clan. Ptah has no right to go behind my back," Goliath replied fiercely. His tail lashed against the carpet, an angry tattoo.

"Easy, Goliath." Elisa swallowed her pills before turning to Angela. "Give her a chance to explain."

"I'm not sure that I can," Angela said as she looked up from her hands and noticed for the first time the open sewing basket on the coffee table. An embroidery hoop with a piece of fabric stretched over it peeped out of the top. "What's this?" She gently removed the needlework from the basket. "Oh Elisa!" she exclaimed. "It's beautiful."

"It's a long way from done," Elisa replied as she looked over her handiwork intricately stitched in soft pastels. But I've outlined all the border work and nearly finished the title band. I was hoping to use some of my downtime to finish the little gargoyles on the side, but I've learned it's nearly impossible to count stitches when you're seeing double."

Goliath leaned over to get a better look. 'Our First Egg' was spelled out in pale blue and silver on a backdrop of midnight blue. "Elisa?" the gargoyle leader asked, his confusion evident.

She gave him a sheepish shrug. "It's a tradition among humans to welcome new family members with handmade gifts. It'll be years before the hatchlings need baby clothes, but I wanted to do something."

Angela sniffled and then began to cry. Goliath and Elisa both looked at the girl in confusion. "Angela?" What is the matter, daughter?" they asked as one.

She didn't answer. The younger female bolted off the couch, needlework in hand, sobbing as she threw open the patio door and ran from the apartment.

"I should go after her." Goliath announced.

Elisa stayed him with a touch of her hand. "Don't, Goliath. She'll talk when she's ready. In the meantime, give her some space."

Goliath's doubt was plain. "Are you sure? She seems far from all right."

Elisa was starting to feel pleasantly muzzy from the effects of her medication. "I'm sure. Trust her, Goliath she's your daughter."

Goliath didn't speak as he allowed Elisa to pull him down next to her on the couch and cradle her head in his lap. He looked out through the still open door onto the patio, absently stroking Elisa's ebony mane as he contemplated just what retribution he would exact from Ptah when next they met.

* * * * *

Angela glided heedless of destination through the hot August night, clutching Elisa's needlework in her talons. Tears streamed down her face, a product of overworked emotions and the persistent pounding at her temples. She ground her eyes shut against the anguish and let the wind carry her further and further over the city, until finally exhaustion and strain made her muscles shake with fatigue.

She found herself suddenly unable to go further and folding her wings she spiraled downward to a dingy industrial section of town she didn't recognized. A police car cruised past the struggling brick façade factory buildings and Angela realized she'd flown out of New York entirely, across the river into New Jersey.

The police car disappeared around the corner and she touched ground suddenly feeling compelled to find safety indoors. She ducked into an alley and found the side door of a barely habitable looking building open.

Angela stepped in.

She stopped just inside surprised to find that she was not alone. There was the scent of human habitation about the building, recent and varied. Cooking smells filtered from someplace out of sight adding a layer to the dying scent of fevered activity. Crates and boxes labeled 'Handle With Care' and 'Fragile' were stacked haphazardly against the walls as she moved out of the portion of the building that faced the street.

The dereliction was phony. Inside, people were going about their nightly business. Young, old, somewhere in between and, Angela realized with a start, not entirely human, they sat at long tables playing cards and eating a late dinner of sandwiches and beef stew talking and laughing among themselves.

A tall, blonde, short-haired woman with an air of command looked up at her entrance. "It's about time you got here, Jez," she said as she tossed a poker chip onto the pile and followed that with her cards. Her tablemates groaned as she raked up the chips and stood. "Relax, you can lose the rest of your pay later. I'll be back."

She stared expectantly at Angela and Angela stared back trying to conceal her terror. She recognized the halfling. They'd battled before. And that name. Jez. The name sounded familiar. Jez was a diminutive. For what? Jez. Jessie. Jessabelle. No. Jezabella. The halfling thought her name was Jezabella. Some how she'd stumbled back into the nest of her kidnappers. And they had confused her with her clone.

"Well, what are you waiting for? A red carpet and roses?" the blonde snarked. "Did you want me to announce you?" She leapt up onto one of the tables, causing the other halflings to grab frantically for their suppers, and affected an exaggerated announcer's pose. "Live, straight from her triumphant return to Castle Wyvern, it's Jezabella!" The others cheered and hooted.

Not sure how to react, and stalling for time, Angela smiled and bowed, tucking her finger under her chin as she curtseyed. Then, instinctively knowing that she should do something more, she dropped the antics and glowered at the woman still standing on the table then gave the others the same disapproving look. "It's been a long night, so if you don't mind?"

Candy shrugged. "Doc wants to see you anyway. Come on, I'll take you back to his lab."

"That won't be necessary," a smooth voice assured from the shadows. A tall aristocratic man stepped into the light and Angela's heart froze in her chest. Anton Sevarius, dressed in a white lab coat and dark gray pants, smiled at her, rapidly crossing the room. "Jezabella, my dear girl, I've been worried about you."

By the dragon, this has got to be some horrible dream. She stepped backwards, eyes wide with ill concealed panic as Sevarius drew near, clutching at the needlework still in her hand. She drew it in front of her like a shield and crumpled as something cold stung the back of her neck.

Angela fell to her knees and as consciousness faded realized her error. She had been so shocked at appearance of Anton Sevarius and the odd behavior of his minions, she had failed to notice the Asian woman who had crept up behind her. "Drugged me," she whispered as the woman, also clad in a lab coat, checked her pulse. She was paralyzed. Unable to move even enough to pull her arm away.

"That's right, my pet, but don't worry," Sevarius cooed. "It's for your own good."

He jerked his head sharply toward Candy and her followers. "Take her back to the lab and put her in restraints." Candy grinned and Sevarius scowled. "Gently this time."

The halflings grabbed the gargoyle by her legs and arms and carried her from the room.

* * * * *

"Back among the conscious I see," Sevarius drawled from behind thick steel bars.

Angela glared, holding her head to steady herself as she regained her feet. It wasn't Sevarius who was behind bars, as he should be, but she who was kept behind the electrified restraints and chained in collar, cuffs and shackles as an added indignity. "Why are you doing this? What have I ever done to you?"

Sevarius placed his palm on his cheek, cradling his chin as he contemplated the gargoyle's more egregious sins. "Let's see, it's hard to find a place to begin. But if I had to narrow it down, I'd say it'd have to be your utter uselessness. You're all fluff and spun sugar. Oh certainly you've provided some helpful genetic material. But with all your snooping around at the castle did you learn anything useful to me? No. You seem competent enough but in reality you're an utter wastrel! I go to all the trouble to kidnap you and you've got absolutely nothing. No access codes. No computer files. Nothing! Nothing but petulant glares and silly questions," he said off of the gargoyle's angry scowl. "Really Angela, I'm sure if you try you can do better. Surely you haven't been spending all of your time visiting the sick and protecting the defenseless? Surely you've learned some little thing about Sector 13."

The gargoyle sighed. What good was it to argue with a mad man anyway? "I told you. I keep telling you, I don't know anything about Sector 13. We don't talk about Sector 13. I didn't even know exactly where it was! I found it by accident!"

Sevarius was tempted to sigh. This really wasn't getting him anywhere and he did have a timetable to keep. The phone calls from Zurich and Timbuktu were getting most insistent. And the bidder from Montreal was getting unconscionably rude. "And you kept going back because of your little halfling pet?"

"Danny." Angela's lip curled as she tried to control her anxiety. She hoped he was safe wherever he was. "I couldn't do anything else to help him so I-"

"Yes, yes," the scientist snapped angrily, still annoyed at the loss of his test subject. "So you did what you could to fill his lonely hours. We've been through this before."

"Then why do you keep tormenting me?"

Sevarius shrugged. "It fills _my_ lonely hours. But I suppose if you really are telling the truth. If you really have no legitimate access to Sector 13 and you have no useful knowledge, I'll just have to move along to Plan B."

"Plan B?" Angela repeated warily.

Sevarius pulled a remote control from his lab coat pocket. He touched a button and a light blossomed briefly green on Angela's leather collar. The gargoyle crumpled gracelessly and hit the concrete with a satisfying rattle of chain. "Of course, my dear," he murmured, pocketing the device once more. "There's always a Plan B."

* * * * *

Candy stood just behind the glass watching as Dr. Ling adjusted yet another dial on the control panel. She'd been at it for hours, ever since Jezabella had stumbled back into the hideout and freaked at the sight of Dr. Sevarius. Evidently her reaction had been anticipated because Ling had been ready, syringe in hand. One quick dose of tranquilizer and 'Boom', no more freaky gargoyle. Too bad Candy couldn't do the same to Sevarius. "Jeeze, Doc, I said I was sorry. You said make it look real." Candy grinned, her smile feral. "I get into my work. So sue me already!"

"I should do a great deal more than that if you're not careful, Candy." Sevarius returned his own gaze to the work going on behind the glass. The laboratory was a back up, complete in every detail. He used it to conduct redundant research, duplicating experiments already in motion at the other facility to save time. He'd learned from past experience the possibility of a mishap was always to be taken into account and mishaps meant time, months and sometimes years. Anton Sevarius didn't have those to spare.

He watched Ling speak softly into a headset to Jezabella who floated, a respirator mask over her delicate features, in a tank of biochemical soup. The pale blue goo was an amalgam of tissue regenerators, nutrients, psychotropic agents and other chemicals that would facilitate Ling's reprogramming process.

"So, she really thought she was Angela?" Candy murmured. Sevarius gave the halfling a sharp look. Despite the dressing down she had received, there was no mistaking the awe at her handiwork.

"Quite." Sevarius pursed his mouth in distaste. "At the time I activated her implanted post hypnotic suggestion to return to me, she was engaged in what appeared to be an extremely maudlin tête-à-tête with Goliath and his pet detective. Very domestic. Very nauseating. Very counter-productive."

"You can do that? You can spy on Jezabella?" Candy knew she shouldn't be surprised. After all, Sevarius seemed to be able to do almost anything. Which was why she and her crew were still hanging around the freakazoid, she reminded herself. He was her ticket to becoming normal again.

"A fail-safe device implanted as part of the ruse, nothing more," he replied smoothly. "Now, on to business. When Jezabella comes out of the tank, she will be physically and mentally restored. The delusion created by the repeated…" He drawled slowly over the word and Candy forced her features into a suitably rebuked expression. "…beatings and the subsequent malpractice inflicted upon her by Xanatos's so-called physicians with be removed."

__

Whatever, Candy thought to herself. She didn't understand science and this seemed more like something you'd see in a science fiction movie anyway. Tanks and respirators and nearly naked people floating unconscious. That made sense to her. At least she'd seen it before. But what bugged her was Ling. Ling with her headset and her clipboard clucking over that control board like a kid on Christmas. She gave Sevarius a sidelong glance and wondered if she should ask what the behaviorist, who usually could be found tormenting monkeys and rats, was doing. She opened her mouth, but closed it again as Ling hit a button on her control board and Jezabella contorted like a fly hitting one of those electric zappers.

Sevarius frowned and turned away. He plastered a nonchalant expression onto his face and the look in his eyes suggested that Candy would be wise to do the same. "Despite this setback we do have a schedule to keep," he began as he touched Candy's shoulder and led her away from the observation area. "Are your people settled and ready to return to work?"

"Yeah, sure," Candy replied. _No, now would not be a good time to ask about Ling._ "We're always ready. Just give the word."

"Fine." Sevarius replied. All back to business. He touched the control pad to his office door and stepped through, leaving Candy to chew on her own thoughts.

* * * * *

Matt sat in Elisa's living room sipping decaffeinated coffee from a paper cup. His shift at the station had been long and unproductive. Captain Chavez had come by his desk, informed him curtly of Elisa's medical suspension then lingered as if something else was on her mind. Clearly it wasn't the case, at least not directly, for she hadn't offered any insight other than 'possibly' or 'could be' when Matt had tried to draw her into the investigation. He contemplated asking the Captain straight out what was bugging her, but then considered the possibilities and decided the topic was too laden with minefields to be safely navigated. It was with relief that he acknowledged her order to keep digging and watched her close the door on her office.

He'd cut out early. Not much, considering all the recent overtime, just enough to get by Joe's Diner before the crush of off duty cops made the place impossible to navigate. He snared a piece of the long counter, put in his order of scrambled eggs and home fries and then requested pancakes and sausage to go.

Now the 'to go' box sat cooling on Elisa's kitchen counter and his partner stood out on the balcony reassuring Goliath that she could manage a few hours alone on her own. She was pointing at him, and if Matt could trust his lip reading, Elisa was assuring her lover that he was first in what was sure to be a parade of visitors. Goliath grudgingly nodded and the pair kissed. Matt looked away. He knew it was petty, but sometimes he still found other people's happiness hard to take.

There was a flutter of wings and the sound of the glass door sliding. Matt looked up. Elisa was leaning against the doorframe as if being upright was an effort. "Are you okay," he asked as he took to his feet. He crossed the living room quickly and offered Elisa his arm.

"Thanks, I still get kind of dizzy if I'm up too long," she admitted as he led her to the couch.

Matt evaluated his partner. Tiny lines were etched at the corners of her eyes and her mouth was drawn down. "Maybe you should be in bed," he said as he flopped back down into the adjoining chair.

Elisa shook her head. "No, it's okay. I'll be fine here. I don't feel quite so confined and I've got the box…" She gestured at the television. "…to keep me company. Court TV is promising an exciting day of forensic testimony."

"Don't you get enough of that at work?"

A fresh set of worry lines creased Elisa's careworn face. "I'm not at work, remember? I'm stuck here on medical leave. Until further notice."

Matt shrugged at the obviousness of it. "Well, yeah, Elisa. That's what happens when you crack your skull. The city considers it a liability to have their detectives keeling over on the streets. I don't think they're doing it to be punitive."

"You don't get it, Matt," Elisa said as she sank back further onto the couch. "The captain dropped by to check up on me and found Goliath here." She struggled for a minute trying to phrase her words correctly. "It was totally innocent. But god, could it have been more obvious?"

The redhead struggled upright, confusion plain on his thin features. "I'm sorry, Elisa, you're not making any sense_." So this was what was bugging the Captain,_ Matt thought. He frowned.

"Goliath was in the shower. He'd gotten in a fight with some street gang. Garbage was involved. I told him to go clean up and then fell asleep. I'd forgotten he was in the apartment when I let the Captain in."

"And wackiness ensued?" Matt supplied. _I really do need sleep._

Elisa removed her hand from her eyes long enough to shoot him a dirty look. "I wish. She knows. I know she knows. I'm just not sure what she's going to do about it yet."

"If it's any consolation, I don't think she does either."

Elisa ignored him, lost in her overdose of angst. "If I could only break this case. Find the people behind the clone and the thefts. I could prove to the Captain that I'm still a good cop."

Matt stifled a yawn and combed his fingers through the short hair at his temples. "I don't think she doubts that, Elisa."

Elisa shook her head, winced and reached for her pain medication and the ugly yellow pitcher. She poured water into a glass, tapped a single pill into her palm then broke it returning a half pill to the bottle. "No, but I'm sure she questions my loyalties. Sure, I've protected the clan over the years. But only because I knew they'd never get a fair chance."

"Why is this different?"

Elisa gave him a guilty shrug. "Because I was willing to cover for Angela. Right until it was painfully obvious that no one else could be responsible for the thefts. I let my clan ties blind me to the facts of the case."

Matt took a sip of his coffee. It had gone cold and sour. "Yeah, but the facts were wrong, remember? You were right to trust your gut."

"It doesn't matter," Elisa argued back. "If I hadn't dragged my heels and followed through sooner we could have cleared Angela and caught the clone. This is my fault."

Matt's patience, exhausted after a long night of chasing paper trails, snapped. "So I was what? Just going along for the ride?" Elisa looked up as her partner's voice pitched into an angry whine. "I was part of this investigation too, Elisa. I looked at the same facts and came to the same conclusions. You don't own the market on blame."

"I didn't say I-" Elisa cut off. "You're right, I'm sorry." She smiled. It was wan and rueful, but a smile all the same and the mood lightened a little. "We both screwed up. So what do you want to do about it?"

Matt put the cup aside and leaned back into his chair. He rubbed at his eyes and played with the knot of his tie before replying. "I don't know. I spent the night reviewing all the case files and going though the preliminary forensic reports and nothing jumped out. It'll be days before we get the final analysis from the labs. But I know we're missing something obvious, Elisa. I just can't put my finger on it."

"Okay," she countered. "Let's back up a minute. You established that the companies hit had common corporate ties right?"

"Yeah, six companies, with total or partial ownership in five cases by three corporate entities."

"Good lead, but maybe we got too caught up in the industrial espionage angle," Elisa postulated. "Maybe the connection was something more mundane."

"Like what?" Matt reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out his notebook and pen.

"All those companies need services right? Cleaning crews, in house catering, trash pickup? What if our thief was someone who had access to one of those services? No unusual fingerprints left at the crime scene because they were in and out on legitimate business."

"Hey," Matt replied, his own wheels turning. "That's not bad. Not bad at all. Still doesn't explain our Mr. X and his gargoyle but it could explain the lifted access codes." Matt got up from his chair suddenly feeling reenergized and less frustrated. "I'll call the lab managers and find out who they outsource to."

"Promise you'll call me if anything interesting turns up?"

"Sure." Matt glanced at his watch. It was nearly seven. He had just enough time to dash home and grab a quick shower. If he was really lucky, he'd be done with his phone calls and any follow-up requests for information by noon. He might get to bed yet. "Later. I promise." He strode out of the apartment the door clicking softly shut behind him.

Elisa nodded and closed her eyes. She felt better. Not great, but not quite as guilty either. She might be stuck in her apartment, but she was still on the case even if Matt had to do all the legwork. 

* * * * *

****

That Night: Goliath's Office

"Okay," Brooklyn said as he glanced over at the digital readout of the small desk clock. "It's 8:30 here, which means that in Egypt it's-" He paused for a second to do the math. "Twenty thirty plus seven is twenty seven and the half. Wait. Minus twenty-four, it's three thirty over there. Good. Just the right time for a nice, quiet chat." He put in the call and waited comfortably in Goliath's big leather chair for someone from the Oasis Clan to pick up.

"Geb, at your service."

Brooklyn grinned at the video monitor. "Perfect. Just the gargoyle I was hoping for. Geb, how have you been?"

The snowy-haired, vaguely avian featured gargoyle grinned back cheerfully at Brooklyn. "Gliding my wings off. The work of a page in the court of Senen is never done, you know. How are you, Brooklyn, my friend?"

"Holding my own, kid. The family is good. The clan is good (well, it is now that Angela's back and safe). There's only one fly in the ointment."

"A fly? What kind of fly? And how can humble Geb assist you?"

Brooklyn templed his fingers before him. He knew he should embroider his words more in keeping with a polite conversation, but he just didn't have time. "Tell me why Senen sent Ptah to New York," he requested bluntly.

Geb frowned and his head dipped to the side and close to his video link so that for a moment all Brooklyn saw was a bit of his downy head and one dark eye. The Egyptian gargoyle then moved back into proper view, his beak pursed with confusion. "So that's where the Elder has disappeared to." He shook his head. "Senen will be most displeased when I give her this news."

Brooklyn leaned forward and stared at the camera. "Wait, so he's not here on her orders?"

"No, Brooklyn." Geb looked away from for a moment checking to see if there were any observers. He dropped his voice and moved closer to the audio pickup. "Several nights ago, Ptah was called to Senen's council chamber. Everyone else, all of the normal courtiers and councilors, were dismissed. Even me!" Geb ruffled his snowy wings and resettled them before continuing. "I waited here in the antechamber, transcribing notes from the earlier council session." He glanced away and looked around again. "I couldn't hear any words exactly as the door was closed, but Senen seemed quite annoyed."

Brooklyn recalled the area of the Oasis Clan's keep Geb described. Their council chamber was constructed of thick sandstone bricks and the door was bronze and heavily carved with hieroglyphics from a much earlier time. Outside was an antechamber one third of the size where courtiers such as Geb could wait in comfort as they tended to other tasks. "You mean you heard shouting through the wall?"

Geb nodded. "Ptah burst out of the council chamber and left. No one has seen him since."

"Can't imagine that did much for Senen's mood."

Geb shook his head but refrained from comment.

"Huh. Interesting." Brooklyn pondered the nugget of information. "Geb, what else can you tell me about Ptah? I got the feeling that he and Senen don't always see eye to eye."

"Very true." Geb considered his words before speaking. "Senen is of a pragmatic mind. She looks at all the options and makes the best choices she can even if they don't always match up with her goals. The mates for your clanmates, for example, she didn't get exactly what she wanted, but it came close enough. Our clans are now linked by the next generation."

__

And eventually it all worked out for everyone's best, Brooklyn thought to himself. Even though there's no way she could know that. "And Ptah?"

"Stubborn," Geb replied. "He won't back down once he's got an idea in his head."

"Yet Senen keeps him as a senior member of her council."

Geb shrugged. "He knows things. He knows people. There was a rumor that he could have negotiated a treaty with the Old Ones and kept us out of the war but Senen wouldn't permit it."

"Really?" Brooklyn was intrigued. "This is news. How did he propose to accomplish this treaty?"

"The rumor was he had been contacted by minions of Sekhmet. That Sekhmet herself had promised him a place at her side if he brought our clan with him. There's even a rumor that he had recruited others without Senen's knowledge and that when the fighting started he led a brigade in Sekhmet's name."

"Whoa. That's quite a rumor," Brooklyn's beak crinkled into a frown as a shiver rode down his spine. "Was it ever substantiated?"

Geb shook his head. "There was a warrior brought back from the battle on the brink of death. She told the story, how she and her squad were attacked. That Ptah led the charge in Sekhmet's name. But she was off her head and died soon after she was returned to our encampment. Ptah was able to brush off her words as the ravings of the dying. And since he himself was wounded honorably in battle, the matter was dropped."

"Was that when he lost his horns?"

Geb nodded. "He won't speak of that night. All of the gargoyles who fought with him died."

Brooklyn let out his breath. He hadn't realized it, but he'd been holding it during Geb's tale of the Unseelie. "Huh. Quite a guy, your Ptah. Listen. Do me a favor. Don't tell Senen I called. Ptah's up to something and I'm curious what it is."

Geb looked uncertain. "A secret. From Senen. Brooklyn, my friend, I don't know."

"Geb, trust me on this," Brooklyn replied fiercely. "It's important."

Geb nodded and put his hands before his breast bowing before the camera. "You are older and wiser than I, my friend and I think you know things that you cannot reveal. So I will yield to your wisdom."

Brooklyn smiled. "Thanks, kid. I promise I'll keep you out of hot water with the Most Honored and Glorious Senen."

"From your lips to her ears."

"I promise." Brooklyn leaned forward and snapped off the videophone before he assured Geb he could hide out in New York until his leader cooled off. He sat back in the chair and considered all he had learned. Ptah was a rogue who had Unseelie connections. Not all of Madoc's people were dead or under a geas. Somebody wanted Broadway and Angela's egg very badly and Ptah was acting as their agent. "Ptah is up to something. And I have a new hobby," Brooklyn said as he got up from the chair. "From now until I get this figured, I'm Ptah's shadow."

* * * * *

****

Destine Manor

"Let's see," Andrea mused. "I think I'll keep the red one, and that old green one can go to charity, but Jeannie can have the other two."

Jezebella nodded and placed the sweaters dutifully in the appropriate boxes, struggling to keep the placid smile upon her face as she carefully folded the ones Andrea had chosen as gifts for her friend. As the minutes went by, though, she was finding it harder and harder to suppress her annoyance and maintain the calm façade. She'd been expecting to get some work done for Anton, not spend most of the night sorting used clothes. When she'd awakened at sunset and Broadway had asked if she'd still be spending the night at Destine Manor even though Demona was out of the country, she'd seized eagerly on the opportunity to say "yes." Wednesday night visits to her mother's house were apparently Angela's routine, and a quick mention that she had "a lot of studying to do" was all it had taken to excuse herself. 

She still had no idea what it was, exactly, that Angela studied during her weekly visits with Demona. Anton had insisted she get to work immediately, and he'd dispatched her back to the castle without granting her the opportunity to question her twin sister on the specifics. For now, she could only guess that Angela's educational pursuits must have something to do with the vast collection of Latin texts she kept hoarded in her tower workroom. With Demona absent, however, Jezebella could afford to worry about that little problem at a later time and focus instead on more pressing concerns. She needed to begin the search for the information Anton wanted, and Dominique Destine's home office was as good a place to start as any. As Angela Destine, Dominique's trusted daughter, she'd assumed that she'd have the run of the house, and getting some time alone to poke around in there would be relatively easy. Unfortunately, in her haste, she had overlooked one minor detail.

"I'll send her these jeans, too," Andrea decided. She folded them quickly, doubling the garment over on itself, and handed them off to the dark-haired gargoyle. "They were starting to get a little snug on me anyway," she added, shrugging.

Jezebella eyed the petite woman skeptically. Andrea Calhoun, her mother's loving mate. She hadn't counted on being waylaid by the human female, and as she laid the jeans atop the growing pile in the cardboard shipping box, she couldn't help wondering if the over-talkative artist had secretly planned on trapping her for a night of "quality time" all along. Andrea had been in the midst of cleaning up the closet of the third-floor bedroom where Jeannie had been staying as Jezebella touched down on the balcony. She'd greeted her stepdaughter with a friendly smile and a warm hug, and made the obligatory inquiries into how she was holding up since returning from her kidnap ordeal.

"I'm fine," she responded, brushing off Andrea's concerns.

The painter gave a small smile and nodded. "Well, if you ever want to talk about it, Angela," she offered, "I'm here to listen." A feeling of sympathetic melancholy colored her words, and Jezebella puzzled over it for a long moment. She'd picked up a similar vibe off Delilah the night before when the white-haired clone had come up to find her in the tower and sought to make her own inquiry into her clan sister's well-being.

"I'll keep that in mind," she replied. Caught off guard again as she had been with Delilah, she was uncertain what else to say. Was Andrea just being solicitous, or did she also have some trauma in her own past that she felt put her on a more intimate level of understanding with what she presumed Angela was feeling after her nightmarish ordeal? Luckily, Jezebella's reluctance to entertain any discussions about events she couldn't even remember was easily misinterpreted as a normal reaction on Angela's part. In the context of what the others all believed she had suffered through, not wanting to talk about it was perfectly understandable. Jezebella supposed that was why Andrea simply gave her one more big hug and made no effort to pursue the topic further.

"I haven't heard from Dominique since the other night," Andrea commented, sensing Angela's desire for a change of subject. "She was really upset about having to leave so suddenly, with everything that was going on and all, but she said there was an emergency at the Paris office and they needed her there right away." Andrea sighed. "I wasn't too happy about her having to take off just like that, either. We'd been fighting most of the night, arguing about Jeannie again… until we both realized what fools we really being. We'd just gotten started on making up, but then that news bulletin came on the TV…"

Jezebella nodded, listening intently as Andrea went on about how she and Demona had rushed to the bus station. Her own memories of that night were a bit vague in places (Candy's fault, according to Anton), but she'd been positive she'd spotted Demona as she fled. Now, at least, she knew why. Demona had provided Andrea's transportation, carrying her to the scene and dropping her off just a few blocks away. Just minutes later, according to Andrea, Demona had been spotted by the police helicopters and mistaken for the gargoyle they were searching for. It had been an unanticipated turn of events for her, but a fortuitous one for Jezebella, trying to make good her escape. "I would imagine my mother gave them a pretty good chase," Jezebella interjected, smiling at her own good luck.

"Yeah," Andrea replied. "I guess. That's something else we really didn't get a chance to talk about before she left. I didn't make it back here until after sunrise, and she was heading out the door with her suitcase as I was walking in." Andrea sighed, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. "If I hadn't been so dead tired at the time, I probably would've been thinking clearly enough to have demanded to go with her."

__

"If only you knew how badly I wish you had done just that, Andrea Calhoun." 

Jezebella winced as the internal voice taunted her. They'd continued chatting for a few minutes more, and before she realized it she'd been shanghaied into helping Andrea prepare a small care package for Jeannie. "It will only take a few minutes," the woman had promised, "and I could really used the company." She'd been forced to acquiesce, as it would have been out of character for Angela to decline to help her stepmother, and she couldn't risk arousing any suspicion. Two hours and several boxes later, she was cursing herself for being so overly diligent about keeping up appearances. What had seemed at first to be a simple chore of packing up a few small items from the closet had expanded under Andrea's direction into a tedious, item by item review of the contents of the entire room.

With the last pair of old denim jeans folded, however, it seemed as though the end was finally nearing. "Is that it?" Jezebella asked. She pressed her hand down on the pile of assorted clothes, scrunching the stack below the box's rim to emphasize the point that it was now nearly full. "I'm not sure anything more will fit, Andrea," she said, doing her best to disguise her irritation beneath Angela's characteristic friendly tone. She hoped the woman would take the hint, as she had almost reached the end of her patience with both the clothes-sorting and Andrea's relentless storytelling. 

Thanks to the latter, Jezebella now knew more about Demona and Andrea's former houseguest than Angela herself probably knew, save for the story of how the strangely naïve young woman had come to take up residence with them in the first place. Andrea had skimmed over that part, as it was evidently a story Angela had already heard. She'd talked at length, though, about how things had gone after Jeannie moved it. Jezebella had heard all about how Jeannie, seeking to make herself useful, had attempted to find a place for herself in the household, and how Andrea had disagreed with her mother on numerous points relating to just what Jeannie's exact role should be. She'd listened to the whole complicated story as she helped fold the clothes Andrea had pulled first from the closet and then from the dresser, offering only nods and affirmative noises in reply when appropriate, just as she knew her twin sister would. 

"Yeah, I think so," Andrea replied. She slid the empty bottom drawer of the dresser closed, then turned, frowning thoughtfully as she examined the three large boxes of neatly stacked clothing. "We'd better check the closet one last time, though," she added, "just to be sure."

Jezebella sighed quietly and rose to her feet, twitching her tail to restore the blood flow to the slumbering appendage. "I'll look," she said. She crossed quickly to the partially open bi-fold doors, sparing a glance back over her shoulder as the blonde woman reconsidered a few of her earlier decisions and moved a few more items from the "keep" box to the one destined for charity. As fascinating as it was to listen to Andrea's account of the real-life soap opera that had been playing out nightly at Destine Manor, what she had learned had not brought her one bit closer to any of the information she truly needed to find. And Anton would surely not accept the excuse that she'd been kept busy doing housecleaning were she to report in with nothing to show for her efforts.

Jezebella opened the closet, contemplating her options as she grabbed the lone black dress that hung there and pulled it from the rod. One way or another, she had to get Andrea out of her way. She didn't want to cause a scene, though, if it could be avoided, so she quickly discarded the first notion that came to mind. While she had no doubt she could easily overpower the petite young woman, and the thought of quieting her permanently with a sturdy cloth gag and several yards of rope was definitely appealing, such an overtly aggressive course of action would surely ruin her cover. No, she mused, her best bet would involve employing more subtle methods, to either get Andrea to go to bed, or get her out of the house entirely.

"This is the only thing left, Andrea," she said, holding up the dress. She noticed the white lace trim at the cuffs and collar and recognized it as a maid's uniform only as an afterthought. Jezebella raised a brow ridge, suddenly intrigued. Everything they'd packed for Jeannie so far had been a hand-me-down from Andrea, yet this dress was brand new, still on its department store hanger. "Is this Jeannie's, too?" she asked.

Andrea rose from her kneeling position near the boxes, her eyes narrowing as she saw the garment Angela held. "No," she replied. "Most definitely not." She closed the short distance between herself and the gargoyle, and plucked the hanger from her talons. "I'm not sure yet what I want to do with this silly costume," she said as she hung it back in the closet and quickly closed the doors, "but I'll figure that out later." She took the gargoyle by the arm, steering her back towards the center of the room. "Come on. Help me take these boxes downstairs."

"Finally," Jezebella said beneath her breath. She hefted the first of the three boxes and waited for Andrea to stack the second atop it and pick up the third herself. Though she was curious as to why the simple dress had provoked such a strange reaction from the human woman, Jezebella also couldn't help hearing Anton's voice in her head, reminding her that she had bigger fish to fry tonight. _"Get rid of her and get one with it, Jessie!" _she could imagine him chiding. Jezebella shifted her grip on the heavy boxes. "I intend to," she whispered in reply. She lashed her tail and resettled her wings, the look in her eyes turning cold and determined as she followed Andrea from the room.

"It's late," Jezebella stated as they reached the bottom of the second flight of stairs. "I'm sure you're tired and want to get to bed, and I really should get some studying done."

Andrea set down the box of discarded clothing she carried, pushing it into a corner of the foyer near several other boxes and shopping bags full of other discarded household items that had also been set aside for the P.I.T. charity drive. "Actually, I spent most of the day sleeping," she replied. She smiled and shrugged. "I guess Elisa was right. Live among gargoyles long enough, you start to become nocturnal." 

Jezebella managed a tight smile. _So much for Plan A,_ she mused, allowing Andrea to relieve her of Jeannie's care package. She followed the woman into the living room, eyeing the heavy cords on the drapes speculatively as Andrea placed the box carefully on the coffee table. Unbidden, the image of a bound and gagged Andrea flashed again in her mind. It'd be so very easy. Knock her out. Tie her up. Toss the house. If she struck quickly enough, the woman might not even know what had hit her by the time she came around the next morning. _No, Jezebella, you'd still risk ruining the charade! You're **Angela** now, so why don't you start thinking like her. Andrea **trusts** you. You can **use** that. _Jezebella reconsidered her options yet again. The nagging voice of her conscience was right. It wouldn't pay in the long run if she jumped too quickly to using brute force. If Andrea was too restless for sleep, perhaps another suggestion could be made of an activity to keep her occupied. She simply needed to feel her out a bit more, that was all.

"I've noticed Fox has the same problem," she commented. "Sometimes I see her up and about the castle at all hours of the night."

Andrea chuckled. "I can imagine." The woman paused, then took the gargoyle's hand, squeezing it affectionately. "Still, Angela, I didn't mean to keep you from your lessons." Andrea smiled and gazed up at the dark-haired girl, her brown eyes twinkling. "It's been a crazy past couple of days," she said, "for both of us," she added quickly. "I guess with Dominique being gone, I just needed someone to talk to. I'm glad you were here tonight, Angela."

For the second time that night, Jezebella found herself wrapped in Andrea's gentle embrace. She hesitated for only an instant before reciprocating the hug as she imagined Angela would, stroking her taloned fingers awkwardly through the woman's shoulder-length honey-blonde hair. "I'm… glad I could help," she said, finding herself again at a loss for better words. Angela was the master of the emotional stuff, not her, but the feebleness of the reply seemed to go unnoticed. Andrea leaned against her, a cheek laid against her chest, and gave only a contented sigh in return.

Jezebella held Andrea for a quiet moment longer, struggling to reconcile the pleasant, peaceful feeling that overcame her with the predatory thoughts of a few seconds before. As she warmed to the embrace, she was startled to find herself contemplating how lucky Angela was to have so many people in her life who truly cared about her. Jezebella blinked. She'd never in her life been jealous of her twin sister before, at least not that she could recall. So why was she suddenly feeling so envious now? _It feels nice to be loved, doesn't it?_ a soothing voice said from within. _Why should Angela be the one to have this while you have nothing? Don't you want more, Jezebella?_

"Yes," she muttered softly. Instinct took over as she drew Andrea imperceptibly closer. Suddenly, she didn't want to allow the moment of affection to end. _This life can become **your** life, Jezebella. If you want it, all you have to do is take it._ Jezebella trembled and let out a ragged breath, and Andrea, sensing the girl's distress, responded by gently rubbing her back, eliciting a soft purr of contentment. Jezebella brushed her talons delicately over the human woman's forehead, composure returning as the emotional tension trickled away under Andrea's soothing touch. Suddenly, the last resort option from a few moments before ceased to be an option at all, but her eyes brightened as a new idea came to her. 

"You know," Jezebella said, still forming the thought as she spoke, "I'm starting to think maybe it's a _good_ thing that Mother didn't ask you to go with her to Paris." She smiled amiably as the woman looked up at her, a questioning look in her eyes as they broke their embrace. "You deserve a vacation of your own, Andrea. A chance to get away from here for a while, and go someplace where you can really relax and unwind."

"Hmm, that _would_ be nice for a change," Andrea mused. "A few days to not have to worry about art deadlines or deal with the stress Domi always seems to be bringing home with her from the office." She gave a wistful sigh and sat down on the couch, pulling Angela down beside her. "You're probably right, though, Angela," she said. "Dominique's barely found the time to pick up the phone and call since she left. If I'd gone with her, I'd probably just be sitting alone in a hotel room right now, feeling more annoyed with her than I already am."

Jezebella took Andrea's hand and patted it affectionately. "All the more reason to take some time for yourself and get a change of scenery," she replied. "Think about it. Isn't there some place you've always wanted to go?"

"There's lots of places." Andrea smiled ruefully. "I tried to get Dominique interested in Sedona once, but she said she prefers the tropics to the desert. So we ended up spending two weeks in Hawaii, instead."

"Sedona," Jezebella replied. "That's in Arizona, right? I think I read something about it once in one of Fox's travel magazines. It sounded like a nice place… very relaxing. I bet a week's getaway there would do you a world of good."

Andrea nodded absently. "Yeah, it'd be great." She looked up to find Angela gazing at her expectantly. "Wait a minute, you're serious about this, aren't you?"

The young female nodded earnestly and placed a taloned hand on Andrea's shoulder. "Of course I am. It's not like there's anything stopping you, Andrea."

The blonde woman smiled but shook her head. "But Angela… I can't just up and take off at the drop of a hat. What about my work? And who will watch the house?"

"You worked for months on the paintings for the Met exhibit, but that's done now. Surely you spare a week to rest up before diving into the next big project," Jezebella said. "And I can keep an eye on the house if you're really that worried about it."

"I don't know, Angela. The plants I just put in need watering every day and the others…"

"Will still be in their pots when you get back," the gargoyle stated. "Andrea, listen to yourself." Jezebella gently tightened her grip on the woman's shoulder until Andrea looked up and met her eyes once more. "Why keep searching for reasons _not_ to do this when you know you want to?" she said. "You work yourself too hard, just like Mother does. It's not being selfish to take some time off to treat yourself every once in a while."

Andrea regarded her gargoyle friend carefully for a long moment. "You know what, Angela," she replied, grinning, "you're right. I _do_ deserve a vacation. And the sooner, the better, too."

Jezebella chuckled. "That's the spirit, Andrea. Trust me. You won't regret it."

"Thank you, Angela." Andrea leaned in, giving her stepdaughter a quick hug before rising from the sofa. 

Jezebella smirked. She could tell from the look on the woman's face that the gears were now spinning inside her head. She rose as well, trailing after Andrea as she hurried to the foyer. She raised a brow ridge in surprise as she found the woman slipping on a well-worn denim jacket and shoulder her purse. She hadn't expected her to run off right that second. "Andrea?" she asked.

"Relax, Ang, I'm not leaving for the airport just yet." She smiled mysteriously. "You've given me an idea, that's all. I'm going to run down to Eve's Kitchen… see if an old friend wants to join me as I treat myself."

Jezebella nodded in mock understanding. Andrea was leaving her alone in the house. This was working out better than she'd hoped. "Okay. Have fun," she replied.

"I'll be back in a few hours." Andrea gave Angela another quick hug before turning for the door. "Lock up if you leave before I get back."

"Right." Jezebella watched from the door as Andrea bounded down the front steps and made her way down the long driveway to the street, waiting until she had seen a pair of headlights slow and stop to indicate she'd been picked up by a cab. Only then did she sigh in relief and close the door. "A few hours," she muttered. Jezebella slid the brass deadbolt home, then fastened the security chain for good measure. "Thank _you_, Andrea Calhoun. A few hours is all I need."

* * *

Jezebella tapped her talons on the mouse pad, watching the progress bar on the screen before her with growing impatience. "Ugh. Come on already," she muttered as the count froze, hanging inexplicably at eighty-two percent. "I don't have all night here." As if responding to the irritation in her voice, the CD-burner whirred back to life, and the status meter jumped to eighty-five percent. Jezebella lowered the hand she had raised to smack the side of the computer case. "Hmph. That's more like it." The female gargoyle crossed her arms and relaxed back into tiny office chair, lest she give in to the temptation to beat Andrea's all-too-temperamental computer to death before the final batch of files she'd highlighted had finished copying. 

Jezebella sighed, the tip of her tail twitching nervously as she waited for the machine to finish. She glanced at the clock on the taskbar, making a quick mental calculation of how much longer it would be before she could tuck the disks containing her night's work into her belt pouch and depart Destine Manor for Anton's hideout. She wanted to be gone before Andrea returned, and it had already been over two hours since the artist had taken off for "Eve's Kitchen," whatever that was. It was now past midnight, and though Jezebella knew the local bars would be open at least two hours longer and some of the better clubs went all night, somehow she seriously doubted her mother's plain-Jane mate was secretly a rave-loving party-girl. She'd probably be wandering back in at any minute, nicely buzzed and looking for someone to chat with until the wee hours of the morning. 

The gargoyle shifted restlessly and resettled her wings. While she was warming to the various perks and responsibilities that her new role as Angela entailed, she had no intention of becoming a captive audience of one for a second time that night. Andrea was talkative enough when she was sober, and the thought of what she might be like after a few margaritas filled Jezebella with dread. She eyed the monitor dangerously, watching as the counter at last reached ninety percent and growing ever more anxious as the minutes ticked by. 

"Stupid computer," she grumbled. She had wanted to access Ms. Destine's home terminal directly, but the door to her private study had been locked. At least, she thought it was locked. That was the odd part, actually. Although the knob had turned freely, no amount of force had been able to make the door budge. Deciding she didn't want to have to explain away a busted lock or a shattered jamb, she'd stopped short of kicking it in and gone at last in search of the key. At the time, the master suite had seemed like the logical place to start. Now, however, she wished that of all the places to start looking, she hadn't picked the bedside stand.

The young female shuddered, recalling the strange assortment of items that she'd found secreted in the bottom drawer. A frightful chill had run down her spine at the sight of the shiny pair of police handcuffs that sat prominently atop the neatly organized stash of lotions, love toys and other sundry articles. Shocked, she had stared with wide, unblinking eyes for a long, horrified moment, then slammed the drawer shut and fled the room in a panic, suddenly not wishing to see more. When rationality had returned some time later, she found herself in the guest bedroom at the opposite end of the long upstairs hall, at a loss to comprehend her own reaction as she slowly disentangled herself from the heavy comforter she had wrapped herself in upon the bed. 

Jezebella glanced at the computer screen again and shook her head to clear it of the bizarre mental images before they could overwhelm her once more. "T… M… I," she muttered slowly, banishing the disturbing thoughts. Andrea and Demona were mates, she reminded herself, and what they did in the privacy of their bedroom was their own concern, not hers or anyone else's. The file copy had now reached ninety-five percent complete, with about four minutes left to go. Jezebella tossed her head and smiled, taking the end of her braid into her talons and fingering it idly as she waited. Serendipity had worked in her favor once again, the unexplainable fright she had experienced sending her into a room she might not otherwise have explored and gifting her with a marvelously simple Plan B. Demona's computer may have been out of reach behind a locked door, but Andrea's machine sat neglected and unguarded on a cluttered desk in the corner of the guest room. 

It was older, entry-level system with a barely adequate processor chip and an annoyingly slow CD burner. Jezebella supposed that her mother's artist mate only used it to word process and check e-mail, for though she had some graphics software installed, there was little of interest to be found on the hard drive other than some scanned family photographs and P.I.T. newsletter drafts. All of its shortcomings aside, though, it was hooked into the manor's home network to give Andrea internet access, and that link was all Jezebella really needed. The innocent-looking floppy disk she'd pulled from a hiding spot inside her tunic had taken care of the rest. All she'd needed to do was insert it in the drive and special program had auto-loaded and went to work, snaking its way through the system, mapping secret pathways and decrypting passwords. Within the space of a few minutes, it had established for her a backdoor into Dominique Destine's hard drive and she was staring at the Nightstone CEO's most top secret personal files... all without ever having to touch her talons to the keyboard. 

It had all worked just as Anton had promised it would, which would make the doctor exceedingly happy, Jezebella mused. He'd paid quite handsomely for that small floppy disk according to the warning he'd given her the night before about being extremely careful with it. "Don't worry," she'd replied, tucking it away beneath her clothing. "I won't fail you." 

Jezebella's ears perked up as soft chime sounded and the CD writer's drive tray slid open. _"Your CD has been successfully created!"_ declared the message on the screen. The lavender-skinned gargoyle smiled broadly and rose from to her feet. Carefully, she plucked the CD from the tray and placed it into its waiting case. It had taken a total of three CD-R's to hold all the data, and this was the last one. Pressed for time after wasting an hour on the failed attempt to physically get into Demona's home office, she'd decided to simply copy everything. Anton could load the electronic files onto his own computer and wade through them faster than she ever could, after all, and he'd probably _enjoy_ doing it, too.

"Finally," she said. "Now I can get the hell out of here." Jezebella pushed the eject button on the floppy drive, recovered the special floppy disk that had made her success possible, and tapped the power button with her talon, holding it in until the machine clicked and the screen went black. The gargoyle smiled wickedly as she slipped the floppy and the three CDs into her belt pouch. The improper shutdown would save her another thirty seconds of waiting, and it would also obliterate any trace of her activities. The next time Andrea booted up her seldom-used computer, the operating system would detect the error and start over with a previous backup of the system files, leaving her none the wiser that "Angela" had ever touched her machine. 

Jezebella hurried back up to the third floor, uncaping her wings as she strode back into the large, empty bedroom where her first evening at Destine Manor had begun and heading straight for the French doors that led out to the balcony. In about fifteen minutes, she mused, she would be back in the comfortable surroundings of her own private quarters, where she could reward herself for a job well done by changing into something more comfortable and spending the rest of the evening alone, away from the pressures that taking over her sister's life had heaped upon her. Foreign diplomats wanting her ear… an egg in the rookery and a worrisome mate… a seemingly endless schedule of interviews and appearances… Angela's life had turned out to be quite complicated, indeed. Jezebella raised her hand to the door's polished brass lever. Bringing herself fully up to speed would be an ongoing challenge, but for now a few hours to relax and regroup before she returned to the Eyrie seemed like just what she needed.

A loud, unexpected jangling noise from behind her made Jezebella jump. Eyes flashing red, she spun instinctively and bared her fangs, only to feel her face go warm with embarrassment as she realized the source of the harsh ringing sound was simply the antique-style phone beside the bed. Jezebella froze. Should she answer it, or just let it ring? It was half past midnight. Who could be calling at such a late hour? Perhaps it was Andrea looking for a lift home from the bar, or one of the clan calling to check up on her. _What would Angela do?_ she suddenly found herself thinking. It took only a second more for the answer to become obvious. 

Jezebella picked up the receiver midway through the fourth ring and brought it to her ear. "Destine Manor," she said pleasantly, "Angela Destine speaking."

* * *

A half a world away, Dominique Destine straightened in the seat of her limousine, the dour expression on her face brightening a shade as the familiar voice of her daughter greeted her. "Angela, my child! This is a surprise," she said. 

"Mother. Hello." An awkward pause, and the sound of rustling wings. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Angela." Dominique frowned, parental concern etching a deep lines in her brow. "How are _you_ faring, my daughter?" she asked quietly. 

"Honestly?" Angela gave a small sigh. "I've had better weeks, Mother. The clan's been taking care of me, though. I'll survive. You don't need to worry."

"You're my daughter, Angela," Dominique replied solemnly. "I always worry when my child has been hurt. It's not something I can help. It's just part of being a mother." She smiled, her tone lightening as she added, "Trust me, Angela. You'll understand better after your egg has hatched."

"Yes," Angela said. "I suppose." Another long pause. "So what took you to Paris so suddenly?" she asked. "Andrea said there was an emergency of some kind?" 

Dominique settled herself back into the seat as the car pushed its way steadily through the early morning traffic. She knew her child too well to not recognize an attempt to change the subject when she heard one. Given what she had learned of the circumstances two nights earlier when she had spoken with Xanatos from aboard her private jet, though, she didn't feel inclined to force Angela to talk about her ordeal if she didn't want to. For now, she would let it be. There would be plenty of time for confronting all of the unpleasantness later, once she was home and could properly engage her daughter in a motherly, heart to heart chat.

"Yes," she replied. "You could say that. Though it seems more and more like 'epidemic' might be the more applicable term." Dominique gave a small growl of irritation, her true gargoyle nature momentarily asserting itself over human outward appearances. "There's been a particularly persistent flu virus going around the office here," she went on. "Over half of my employees are out on sick leave, including every single member of my senior executive staff."

"Really?" Angela's voice echoed genuine shock. "How strange!"

"Yes," Dominique grumbled irritably. "And it couldn't have come at a worse time, either. Nightstone is in the middle of some _very_ important negotiations to buy out one of our rivals and expand our European operations. The schedule is very tight, and if it isn't met we stand to lose millions. I hadn't planned traveling until next week, when it was time to sign the actual agreements, but the other night I got home to find a voice message waiting for me saying that my last supposedly healthy vice president had just been admitted to the hospital." Dominique sighed. "I didn't have any choice but to step in. I'd already been working on this for weeks, and there was no one else I could hand it off to at the last minute." She paused, allowing concern to again reassert itself and push frustration aside. "I wish there had been, though. I've spent three long days and nights now wondering if I made the right decision in leaving so quickly. Angela, if I had only known…"

"Mother, don't." Angela's voice was calm and reassuring. "You have responsibilities. I understand that, and so does Andrea. I have responsibilities, too. Sometimes they keep us apart, but that doesn't mean we don't still care about each other."

Dominique allowed herself to smile once more. This was the Angela she knew, and it did her heart good to know that despite what had happened, her generally positive outlook on life had survived intact. "How very true, my daughter. And you have your clan, as well. Even when I can not be there, I know they will watch over you."

Angela chuckled. "Yes. Everyone's been wanting to take care of me these past few evenings. I'm starting to feel as helpless as a hatchling at the castle. That's why I came here tonight. Andrea's been the first one to let me actually do something useful."

"Oh? And just what is it you two have been up to tonight?"

"We packed up some clothes for Jeannie. And then Andrea went out to meet some friends at Eve's Kitchen. I've been trying to work on my lessons, but I guess my head's just not in the right place for it tonight."

Dominique smoothed a wrinkle from her severely tailored black skirt and nodded. She had hoped to speak with her mate, but it sounded now like she had missed her. "Don't push yourself, my daughter," she replied. "We can resume your studies when I return."

"Yes. I'd like that."

The human woman nodded again. Angela was putting on a brave front, but there was no mistaking the exhaustion and anxiety in her voice. "You sound tired, Angela. Perhaps you should call it a night and go home. See your doctor, and get some rest."

* * *

Several thousand miles away, Jezebella sat on the edge of the bed, her lips curling into a quirky grin as she replied, "That sounds like a good idea, Mother." She listened a moment longer, then ended the call with a quick "I love you, too" and "goodbye" before cradling the phone and rising to resume her original course. "It's an excellent idea, actually," she said. Jezebella threw open the French doors and stepped giddily onto the balcony. She had fooled Demona, and as she spread her wings and leapt into the breeze, a newfound rush of confidence filled her. If she could do that, she reasoned, she could do _anything_.

* * * * *

****

Later That Night: New Jersey

Candy loitered in the hallway outside of Dr. Sevarius's office, surreptitiously pressing a pointed ear to the wall as she attempted to eavesdrop on the conversation taking place within. Jezebella had returned bearing gifts for the doctor. She'd spotted the gargoyle entering the warehouse several minutes before and followed her at a discreet distance, hoping for a chance to catch her alone, but Jezebella had headed directly to the lab to find Sevarius, and the two of them had retreated together to the privacy of his office. As Candy had watched and listened the shadows, the girl had handed the man a stack of compact disks, stating they contained copies of all the data she'd been able to find on Dominique Destine's home computer. 

Sevarius had closed the door at that point, leaving Candy alone in the hall to speculate on her own how Jezebella had managed to get inside the elusive Nightstone CEO's home. After a moment, though, she thought back to the night at the art museum the week before, recalling how friendly Jezebella's twin sister Angela had been with Andrea Calhoun, the acclaimed artist who also conveniently happened to be Ms. Destine's significant other. The smile still lingered on Candy's lips at the thought of her ex-girlfriend, trusting little fool that she was, unwittingly admitting Jezebella into the house, thinking her to be Angela. "I wonder what Jez did with her once she was inside," she whispered, her smile turning evil as she pondered what she might have done had she'd been invited to the party. "I'll have to be sure to ask."

The pleasant thoughts were short-lived. Candy straightened, wiping the salacious grin from her face as her sensitive ears caught the clicking sound of approaching footsteps. A petite woman in low heels, and in a bit of a hurry. Candy knew who it was before Dr. Lilith Ling even rounded the corner. The halfling woman crossed her arms, assuming a semi-relaxed posture that said "I'm supposed to be here," and nodded in greeting as the Asian woman spotted her and broke stride. 

"Is Jezebella back yet?" she inquired.

__

And a "Good morning, how are you?" right back at you. Candy resisted the urge to scowl and regarded the woman carefully. Ling bore the unmistakable appearance of someone who'd been running on only caffeine and adrenaline for most of the day. Her makeup was cracking, her eyes were bloodshot and the skin around them slightly puffy, and her hair looked to be in need of serious attention from a brush. "Miss Thing's in there," Candy replied, inclining her head towards the door, "meeting with the boss."

Dr. Ling glanced at the closed door, suddenly seeming annoyed that she hadn't been summoned and asked to be on the other side of it. "Well, when she's done with him," she said, "tell her I need to see her in my lab. I need to conduct a quick follow-up exam before she leaves again."

"Sure thing, Doc." Candy gave a casual salute. "Consider it done." She smirked as the woman made a face and turned away, continuing down the hall on her original course. She'd pissed Ling off, but she didn't care. Candy didn't know what it was exactly, but there was just something about the behaviorist that had always rubbed her the wrong way, going back to even before she'd had the privilege of watching her work her strange magic on Jez. Idly, she wondered if the gargoyle would go willingly for the "quick follow-up exam," or if she'd be called upon to "assist" with getting her onto the examination table again. Jez had totally freaked out the other night when Candy had attempted to follow her instructions and strap her down in the confinement chamber to set the stage for her to be "rescued" by Angela's clan. After the fit with the handcuffs, though, she'd been expecting her to panic. At the time, she hadn't let it interfere with the plan. "This has to look real," Jezebella had declared before they began. "Treat me just as you would if I were Angela. That's an order." Candy had done just that, and enjoyed herself right up to the moment she had cinched the final leather restraining strap down on her neck and slammed the door of the coffin-like confinement chamber shut. In retrospect, though, she mused, perhaps she _had_ gotten a little carried away with the shock prod. Just a _little_. 

Another noise caught her attention and drew her thoughts back to the present. Candy looked up, edging back into the shadows as the knob turned and the office door opened. Jezebella, her wings caped regally, stepped out into the hallway, followed closely by Dr. Sevarius.

"…but in the meanwhile, Jezebella," he said, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder, "I want you to keep your sister's appointments. For the time being, you are her, and it's vital that your clan not be given any reason to suspect that anything is amiss."

The gargoyle nodded. "I'm still at Mother's right now as far as the others know. And I'm not expected back at the castle until dawn. In my normal schedule, I take Latin lessons from Mother once a week, but effective immediately, my presence at Destine Manor will start being required much more frequently." She smiled deviously. "Andrea's starting work on a new painting of me," she said, winking.

Sevarius chuckled. "Is that right? Hmm. I'm sure your clanmates will be delighted to hear it." He patted her on the shoulder. "You did good tonight, my dear. Take a few hours and relax. You've earned it."

Candy pressed herself against the wall, keeping out of sight as Sevarius walked jauntily passed her hiding place, humming to himself as he headed back to his lab. Only after her eyes had finished following him around the corner did she look back up and realize Jezebella was staring at her.

"You can come out," the girl said, smirking. 

"How did you… oh yeah… duh. You gargoyles can see in the dark." Candy took a step toward the girl, wondering if the redness on her cheeks was also as readily visible in the dimly lit corridor. 

"Something like that," Jezebella replied. She closed the remaining gap that separated her from the halfling woman and eyed her curiously. "So what are you doing here, anyway?"

"Waiting to talk to you," Candy answered. _And spying on Dr. Freakazoid._ "Dr. Ling was just by. She says she needs to see you before you leave." _She wants to poke and prod you some more. I think it's how she gets off. _

Jezebella nodded. "I know. And I'll take care of that later, right before I return to the Eyrie. But that's not all you wanted to discuss with me, is it?"

__

Damn, she's good. "No," Candy replied. She thought for a long moment, trying to decide what would be the most tactful way to breach a conversation about the events of the previous night. "I've been wondering about the status of our mission," she said at last. "No one's really clued me in yet on what the new plan is. Don't get me wrong, crashing that little P.I.T. 'picnic in the park' thing today had its fun moments, but I don't really see how mixing it up with your dear sister's diehard fans is getting us anywhere on the Sector 13 business."

"You're right," Jezebella replied. "It's not. But I thought you knew. We're not targeting Sector 13 anymore." 

Candy blinked. "What?"

"I said, Sector 13 is no longer our target. Anton says it's a dead end and we've already wasted too much time on it," Jezebella explained. 

Agitation radiated off Candy in waves. This was all news to her, and she wasn't liking the sound of it one bit. "Dead end?" she echoed back. "What the hell are you talking about, Jez? I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't Sector 13 the whole reason we went through that crazy fucking charade the other night? To get you into Xanatos's castle in place of your bitch sister, so you could go in there whenever you wanted, just like she's been doing?"

"Yes, at the time," Jezebella replied casually, "but that was before Angela had been properly questioned. According to Anton, it turns out we were both mistaken about what she actually knows about Sector 13. Such a silly girl, my sister. She never had official access. She was just sneaking down there to visit Danny." Jezebella shrugged. "It's just like her, actually. I really should have seen it coming. But it's a moot point now. And besides, it's not like all our hard work in getting me switched with Angela was for nothing." She placed a taloned hand on Candy's shoulder and smiled, seemingly oblivious to the warning glint in the halfling woman's eyes. "Anton has come up with a new plan. I've already gotten to work on it, but now I'm going to need your help. Since we can't get what we need from Xanatos, we're going to get it from Nightstone instead."

"Nightstone?" Candy could hardly believe her ears. "_That_ is Sevarius's brilliant new plan?"

"Yes," Jezebella said, nodding. "Why? Is there something wrong?"

Candy glared daggers at the dark-haired gargoyle. The amiable smile still lingered on her face, and for a brief moment all she could think of was how much Jezebella resembled her insufferable twin sister. "Hell yes, there's something wrong!" She recoiled, jerking free of Jezebella's gentle grip with more force than was necessary. Candy took a step back before the urge to haul off and slug the girl became too great. Instead, she settled for clenching her fists and raising her voice. "Aren't you and 'Anton' forgetting something, Jez?" she demanded angrily. "Like a promise you both made to bust Tanya and the rest of my people out of Xanatos's dungeon?" she added when Jezebella only stared at her, perplexed.

"Oh, that," Jezebella said. She shook her head again, still smiling. "No, of course not. I haven't forgotten. It's just not a priority at the moment."

"Not a priority?" Candy growled. She was seething now, supernatural energy prickling her skin as she fought to reign in the torrent of emotions that coursed through her. An image flickered before her mind's eye of Tanya Spencer as she'd last seen her: cold, lifeless, and nude, lying sealed beneath a thick sheet of bluish glass. Candy almost hadn't recognized her. Tanya's long curly mane of hair had been cropped short, leaving her pointed eartips prominently exposed, and her skin had gone pale. She'd withered away, becoming scarcely more that a ghost of her former self… just like all the others like her who filled the long row of coffin-like stasis chambers. 

She hadn't been prepared the first time for the sights that awaited her in Sector 13. Though she'd been briefed on the equipment she was to help appropriate, neither Sevarius or Jezebella had mentioned anything to her about the dozens of halflings that Xanatos and his gargoyles were holding prisoner in the secret facility hidden deep within the bowels of the Eyrie Building. Had she known in advance, she could've planned out a strategy to free them. She could have steeled herself, so she wouldn't have been overcome by her emotions. It was anger that had blinded her to the danger of mixing her magic with the force field that surrounded Tanya's tiny prison. She'd failed them all by making a stupid mistake, and nearly got herself, Jake, and Jezebella killed in the process.

Candy shook as misery slowly gave way to rage. Tanya had been her friend, but Candy had planned for them to become much more, up until the night she had simply vanished. And while she'd always had her suspicions, never in her wildest nightmares had she envisioned a place like Sector 13. _Curse those fucking gargoyles!_ the voice in her head screamed. _First they steal away Andie, and now they've taken Tanya, too!_ Unlike Andie, though, who had slipped away slowly, seduced by the strange allure the inhuman creatures seemed to possess, Tanya had been mercilessly snatched away. She'd been abducted and imprisoned, without trial or recourse, for no more crime than being a halfling in the wrong place at the wrong time. That was something Candy could not let stand. She would see Tanya and all the others set free no matter _what_ it took, and Sevarius's "priorities" be damned.

Her hands moved as if on their own, sparks of green energy dancing between her fingers as she struck out. She didn't even realize what she was doing until she had already done it. Jezebella gasped in shock, the insipid smile finally slipping from her lips as Candy grabbed her by the collar of her tunic and shoved her roughly up against the wall. "Damn it, Jezebella," she yelled, pinning her there, "then you'd better _make_ it a priority!" Her heart pounded in her chest. Adrenaline pumping, she tensed up and shoved even harder, making the lavender-skinned female wince. "Do you hear me, _gargoyle_?" she intoned darkly, her face only inches from the girl's as she spat the last word. 

Jezebella trembled, showing fear for the first time as the emerald fire shining in Candy's eyes reflected in the dark orbs of her own. "Candace, please," she said timidly, "let me explain."

Candy tightened her grip on the girl's tunic and Jezebella winced again. The halfling woman froze. Why wasn't the gargoyle making any attempt to fight back? She'd laid hands on her in a fit of blind rage, anger driving her to act without thinking yet again. So why was the fearsome Jezebella cringing away from her like a scolded puppy, when by all rights she should be rolling her onto the floor, talons out and tail lashing? Candy held the girl pinned a moment longer, her mind a whirl as she struggled to make sense of Jezebella's submissive, highly out-of-character reaction. "Candace?" the gargoyle pleaded again. Her voice was quiet and meek, and she had still made no attempt to meet force with force. She hadn't even raised her hands. 

At last, slowly, Candy relaxed her grip, worrying even as she did that Jezebella was waiting for just that moment to make her move. That instead the gargoyle only remained there, eyeing her warily, her back against the wall, filled the halfling woman with both relief and confusion. Uncertain of what Jezebella might do, she backed away, keeping her hands in front of her, palms raised in a defensive "stay back" gesture.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Jezebella said. She sounded vaguely surprised at having to make the statement at all. "Please, Candace," she said gently. "Just calm down and give me a chance to talk, will you?"

Candy nodded mutely. _What the hell is wrong with her? _Her mind raced furiously. Could there still be a few screws rattling around loose in Jezebella's head from the beating she had taken the other night, or was her new pacifist outlook the product of something else entirely? She flashed back on the previous night. Sevarius had claimed that the unusual treatment Dr. Ling had administered to Jezebella was meant to cure her of the delusion that she was Angela, nothing more. To her, though, it was starting to look more and more like the crazy shock therapy the behaviorist had subjected Jezebella to had done much more than that. Candy lowered her hands and bit her lip. While she supposed that the sudden change in the girl's demeanor could simply be an unanticipated side effect, a nagging doubt was forming that made her wonder if there was more to it than that.

"I _will_ help you free your friends, Candace," the gargoyle was explaining, "but our original plan is shot, and it's going to take us some time to work out a new one."

The halfling nodded again and tried to act like she'd been paying attention to what Jezebella had just said. "So how soon can we start on that?" she asked.

Jezebella gave a small smile. "We may be able to start tonight." She sighed. "There's a lot of things that you and I need to discuss, both about the new mission and about my sister. I _will_ need your help soon, and this time I want to make sure there aren't any surprises for you."

__

More surprises? Candy raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about, Jez?"

"I'll tell you," the gargoyle replied, lowering her voice, "but not here." Jezebella turned, gesturing for the other woman to follow. "Come on. Let's go back to my quarters and talk." 

Candy hesitated only for a short moment, considering her limited options. She had plenty of questions, but answers were in definite short supply. If Jezebella wanted to chat, though, perhaps she may just find a few of them yet. "Sure, Jez," she called, hurrying after her, "whatever you say."

* * * * *

****

Next Day

Lilith Ling's Office: TriCities Biotech

Lilith Ling couldn't wipe the smile off her face. It wasn't a pleasantly nondescript "Good Morning" smile that would have been appropriate for a lab manager who hadn't had her first cup of coffee, one that would be met with a commiserating quirk of the lips by any of her subordinates or fellow managers. No, this was a "I won the two hundred and fifty million dollar lottery jackpot, me, not the office pool, just me, so screw you, suckers" smile that kept crawling up her face and made her giggle periodically like a manic schoolgirl. 

She hadn't slept for two nights. She hadn't showered, only changed into a fresh blouse that she kept in her briefcase for emergencies. Between the delicate process of lifting Jezabella's memories and reprogramming her with new ones, dashing to the lab and putting in a grinding day of simulating normality and hurrying back to Anton's new hideaway to check the results of her handiwork, there hadn't been time for sleep. She would make it up to herself later. Hours of sleep, whirlpool baths at five-star hotels, massages, champagne, caviar, whatever she desired. After she had collected her share of Anton's profits. It was only a matter of time now. 

Ling pushed aside the stack of employee time sheets, supply requests and maintenance logs that she should be signing off on, drawn instead by the lure of the laptop sitting in the briefcase at her feet. She shoved her reading glasses back up onto her nose and withdrew the computer from under the desk, waiting impatiently for the machine to go through its warm up cycle. Seconds later, she was typing in her password and accessing her hidden files.

With hurried fingers she fed keystrokes into the machine. It was equipped with two word processing programs. The first was garden variety, ubiquitous to every computer. She ignored that one. It was the second that she brought to life by double clicking a seemingly innocent picture of a scroll, one of many items that littered the desk in the formal library scene that served as her computer's wallpaper.

The second word processor was a gift from Sevarius. Its special features included a complicated encryption/decryption scheme, plus it hid the text automatically unless otherwise instructed causing each line of data to disappear when the Enter key was struck. If interrupted, she could invoke the same feature with a touch of the ESC key. One keystroke and it would appear that she'd been balancing her checkbook, the data gone until it was recalled by a separate set of commands. An inconvenience, true, but for moments like this, when Lilith found herself too drawn to resist the siren call of her research, it was well worthwhile.

She typed, pecking away at the keys, glancing occasionally out the window and the main laboratory beyond. There were only two other employees present, lab techs there to prepare for experiments that would be run later in the day. She ignored them. 

__

J performed perfectly in first field test. No sign of prior personality programming. No residual belief J ever was forcibly evicted from her clan. No sign of previously implanted sibling rivalry. No apparent damage sustained from the repeated head injuries or the re-enforcement of the belief that J was actually genetic donor A. The new personality interface has integrated flawlessly. 

On a personal note, while it was necessary as part of the first test to lay down a complex range of feelings and experiences to simulate the process of reconditioning a non tabula rasa, I never understood S's need to embed the level of vitriol J experienced toward her genetic predecessor. It seemed unnecessarily vindictive and somewhat rash. 

Ling stopped typing and considered her last statement. Though these were her personal notes, there was still the remote possibility that Sevarius might stumble across them and take offense.

She opened an editing window and deleted the paragraph, then closed the window and continued to type as a fresh wave of ideas about the re-impression process struck her. Perhaps she would try them later on one of the halflings. After all, they were already in the building and so much more accessible then some runaway or homeless bum. 

The smile crept over Lilith's face again. She closed out the research notes and began to compose her letter of resignation.

* * * * *

****

23rd Precinct Detective's Bullpen

"Delivery for you, Detective."

Matt looked up, his eyes defocused from scrutinizing the sea of paperwork that threatened to engulf him. He blinked, hauling himself back from the place in his head where tropical breezes danced over sun-drenched beaches that he retreated to when he needed to really concentrate. Standing at his elbow was platinum-haired Tammy from Records and her assistant Doug.

Matt smiled at the girl and she winked back. They had dated briefly after his disastrous breakup with Sara and were still friendly despite how Tammy, having realized that he was just going through the motions, sat him down one morning over breakfast and told him he was a nice guy but he needed to get his head straight before he called her again. "For me?" he said grimacing at the hand truck Doug wielded. "You shouldn't have."

"That's what the courier said," Tammy replied glancing at her clipboard. "Personnel records you requested going back five years from Tri Cities Biotech."

"Yeah, okay. Just set them over there." He pointed at a pile of boxes near Elisa's chair and then reached for the clipboard to sign off on the delivery. "Thanks," he added and then returned to the stack of reports already in front of him, the bullpen and Tammy fading from his consciousness.

Court orders had come through securing personnel records from each of the companies hit. Not the contractors, those would come later. Elisa's idea had been a good one, but Matt couldn't shake the lingering feeling that whoever was behind this was working a little closer to home. So he was in the process of making lists. Lists of projects. Lists of grants. Lists of employees current and former. Dull, tedious work, that he wished he could foist off on an Explorer Scout or a detective trainee wannabee, but unfortunately all available personnel were out in the field providing extra security for the dozens of midsummer events in full swing.

Matt plodded on, hour after hour doggedly compiling his lists. Eventually, he'd use them to cross check and eliminate suspects. Until then, he'd just keep adding names and occupations to the yellow legal pad he'd ruled into sections. At the top were the company names in the order of the break ins. On each page he listed a part of the alphabet, A-B, C-D, E-F-G and so on.

He picked up another folder, the L's from Midtown Medical. A dozen records waited to be added to his list. He fanned the stack of employee files and then squared them off against the desk. La, Beatrice. Secretary. Lang, Sandy. Ditto. Lee, Kent. Messenger. Lee, Kim. Lab Tech. Ling, Lilith. Research Scientist. Linhouse, Robert. Research Scientist. "No wait," Matt muttered scratching the last name off his list. "It says here 'Deceased'. Unless it's his ghost... Next." He continued to work methodically adding names finishing the 'L's' and working his way through the rest of the alphabet. An hour later he dumped the lid back on the box of Midtown Medical records.

Matt yawned and stretched and the crash of waves became the muttering of a dozen detectives working their phones or talking to citizens and suspects. One more set of files, a few dozen more personnel records, then he could call it quits at least long enough to take a break and get out of the Bullpen for real. "One more lousy box. Piece of cake," he said to nobody in particular. He yanked the knot on his tie free, opened his collar and got back to work.

* * * * *

****

That Night: Elisa's Apartment

Goliath burst awake with a throaty growl and stretched, hastily shaking away the last shards of stone but trying to hang on to the final confusing bits of his dream. His brow was furrowed as he struggled to grasp the fleeing imagery. He was back in London with Griff, and the other gargoyle was grinning wildly despite the claxon of an air raid siren. "Come on, mate. You and me will show those blighters what for!"

He was reasonably sure that "blighters" referred to the Germans with which England was currently at war or had been when he had traveled back through time and first met Griff. And from the other gargoyle's feral smile, Goliath was also reasonably sure that Griff was looking forward to the fight with anticipation. So why did Goliath have such a knot in his stomach?

He rubbed at his temples and sighed. Perhaps part of his mind sought a fight he could win, he reasoned as he surveyed the lights and activity of the city. The German pilots had been no match for the combined efforts of two gargoyles. It was a much different scenario than his current battle. Elisa's mulish need to assert her independence was a frustration he found galling. Her determination to stand alone, to reject the help of her family and clan was foolhardy. She had refused to notify her parents or sister of her injury. She would not go to her brother Talon for aid and she would not accept the sanctuary of his castle. It made no sense. Why should she reject assistance when she needed it the most? 

No matter. He would care for her. He would do anything for her. She was his love, his mate, his touchstone in this modern world. He would not allow her to sacrifice her health on the altar of pride.

Goliath leapt the short distance from the roof to Elisa's balcony garden. He cocked his head and listened hard. It was odd, but he could still hear, faintly, the siren of his dreams. He shrugged and threaded his way through the jungle of potted plants. Elisa's vegetable garden thrived despite the week's neglect and from among the riot of greenery he saw bright red tomatoes and vivid yellow squash. He reminded himself to come back out later. The cantaloupes, trailing over the edge of their planter box, smelled ripe and perhaps his love would enjoy it if he prepared one for her.

He froze as he wrapped his hand around the slider of the patio door. It vibrated beneath his talons. The noise. The siren of his dreams, it screamed from the apartment. Goliath threw open the door. "Elisa? Elisa, where are you?"

He expected no answer and got it as he burst in, covering his ears against the cacophony. Thick black smoke was filling the apartment. High and piercing, the smoke detector continued to call for attention. The tiny red light winked above the breakfast nook. Goliath reached up and tore the device from the wall. It died midshriek and went unmourned as the gargoyle tossed it away. He followed the choking black billow to its source. 

In the kitchen a pan of something stood on the stove fuming. Goliath, despite his efforts not to breathe the noxious stink, inhaled, and he coughed as he shut off the gas under the pan and fumbled for the fan switch. He missed the first time and flipped on the overhead lights. A second try was more successful. After a few moments the air began to clear. 

His foot brushed against something soft. Goliath looked down at the floor "Elisa! Oh no, Elisa," the gargoyle babbled as he swept her into his arms and carried her outside into the muggy night. He lay her down on a folding chaise lounge and tried to remember if her head should be up or flat in line with the rest of her body. He decided it didn't matter as he checked her pulse and breathing and found both strong and regular. 

He slapped her face and wrists lightly. "Elisa, wake up!" 

She coughed. After a moment her eyes fluttered open and she struggled to rise. Goliath held her as she hacked and choked clearing her lungs. After the second wave of coughing subsided, he rose long enough to turn on the garden hose and fill her outstretched hands. She sipped and then opened her palms against her cheeks bathing them with cool water. 

"Can you tell me what happened?" the gargoyle asked gently.

Elisa's brow furrowed. "I was. I was in the kitchen. I wanted to cook you a real meal. Not just carry out," she replied slowly trying to fit things together.

Goliath couldn't help himself. As much as he realized that his mate was trying to do something nice for him, frustration and the anger it bred got the better of him. "You were supposed to rest, Elisa," he bellowed. "The instruction from your doctor was quite simple: 'Do nothing'. Even a child could understand such straightforward advice. Why can't you?" 

Elisa looked up at her lover in shock at his angry tone. "It wasn't supposed to be a big deal. How was I supposed to know that making mashed potatoes would trigger a black out?"

"And yet it was." Goliath touched her hair gently. "You were unconscious. Long enough for the potatoes to burn. If I had not arrived in time you could have died."

"But I didn't," she protested minimizing his concerns. "Look, I blew the dinner thing. And the kitchen is probably a wreck. I'm sorry. Let's call Tony's, order a pizza, and as soon as the apartment airs out we can watch a movie."

"There will be no pizza and no movies," Goliath snapped. "You are coming with me back to the castle." 

"But-"

"Not another word." The gargoyle's eyes flashed briefly white. "I will send Broadway later to collect Cagney." The big gray cat had darted out of the apartment with a howl as Goliath had struggled to revive his mistress and now watched the pair argue from the safety of a potted lemon tree.

"Stay here." Goliath went back inside the apartment, dumped the scorched pan in the sink and poured water over it. He glanced around. Elisa said she had cooked a meal and that generally meant more than one dish. The oven was on set to 'warm'. He shut it off and looked inside. There was a glass pan filled with something Elisa called meatloaf. It bubbled around the edges but seemed unharmed.

He found a blue and white potholder and removed the dish from the oven and set it on the counter. Then remembering the cat, he found a plate, put the still hot loaf pan on it and shoved the whole stack, meatloaf, plate and potholder in the refrigerator. 

Elisa's medications, her pills and ointments, scattered in a pile next to the phonebook and a collection of takeout menus, he stuffed into the pouch at his waist before returning to the terrace. 

Without another word, he picked up his mate. She was forced to hang on as he leapt off the balcony and towards the Eyrie Building. Perhaps Xanatos's doctors would have better luck convincing Elisa to stay quiet.

* * * * *

****

Pack Media Studios

"That was great, Angela. Now, let's get a few with the fan on, and see a little more of those lovely wings."

The gargoyle nodded and smiled, relaxing for a few seconds as the photographer loaded a new roll of film and directed his assistants to adjust the angle of a few of the lights. As the huge fan came on, she shook her head and uncaped her wings to catch the artificial breeze. Flashing a fanged grin, she placed a taloned hand jauntily on her hip and turned her face to the camera. "How's that?" she said.

__

Click! "Perfect, baby. Now can you do that thing with your tail like you did before?" _Click! Click!_ "Excellent. This is gold, sweetie. Pure gold."

Fox looked on from across the room as Angela twirled and posed. The lavender-skinned female looked positively radiant, clad in a burgundy silk halter and skirt ensemble made by one of the fashion industry's hottest new designers. As she pouted and struck a mildly provocative pose at the photographer's direction, Fox couldn't help but smile. She'd been nearly ready to cancel this photo shoot, even if it meant begging off on the favor she owed the magazine's publisher, but Angela had insisted she could follow through on the commitment despite being under doctor's orders to take it easy. She'd been skeptical at first that Angela was up to the challenge that awaited her, but seeing the girl enjoying herself now with all her cares for the moment seemingly forgotten told her she'd underestimated the young female once again. 

"She's just… amazing. Are you sure she's never done this kind of modeling before?"

Fox crossed her arms, the smile that graced her lips turning bemused as the correspondent from _Blush_ magazine edged up beside her. "Not to my knowledge," she replied. The former TV star turned to the other woman, a slender brunette with long straight hair. "But I keep learning that Miss Angela has many hidden talents."

"I've never interviewed a gargoyle before," the young woman commented. "I hope I can put together an article to go with this that's as good as Elliott's photos will be."

Fox chuckled. "Angela loves to chat, Miss Gallo. I'm sure you'll have no trouble at all."

__

Click! Click! "Terrific, Angie. Okay, we've got our cover. Now let's get you back into something more casual, and we'll get just a few more for the lead-in page of the article. Take five, people."

Jezebella stepped off the small raised platform and slipped behind the folding partition that stood a few feet away, grateful for the moment to be out of the warm glare of the lights. For the first time since the shoot had begun almost an hour before, the smile slipped from her face. Flirting with the camera was fun, but she'd had no idea how exhausting it was to keep it up nonstop. How did her sister stand it, she wondered, being "on" all the time. Jezebella turned to the mirror, taking in her own reflection. The two-piece ensemble the magazine people had supplied for her to wear fit perfectly. The fabric hugged her curves yet caressed her skin so lightly she could barely tell she was wearing anything at all. Not like the tunic Angela normally wore, with its itchy lacing and coarse texture. Jezebella ran her hands over the flared skirt, hesitating, not wanting to take it off.

"You should ask to keep it," the voice in her head stated matter-of-factly. "You deserve it. You deserve _all_ of this. Love, admiration, fame. This is the life you wanted. This is the life that should have rightfully been yours all along. Don't you remember?"

Jezebella shook her head, suddenly uncertain. What was she supposed to remember? She wanted this, that much she knew. There was no denying the thrill of achievement, of victory, even, that had coursed through her like a wave as the photographer cheered her on. But why did she want it? That was the part that eluded her. 

"She betrayed you," the voice whispered impatiently. 

"Need any help back there?" Jezebella blinked, shaking her head once more, and the odd feeling of disquiet abruptly retreated. She turned to find Fox peering cautiously around the edge of the partition. "I thought you were changing. They're almost ready for you again."

Jezebella mustered a pleasant smile, full awareness of the part she was supposed to be playing reasserting itself. "I am," she replied. "I was just… having some trouble getting this off." She turned her back to the human woman, touching at the spot where the waist of the skirt met the exposed skin of her back just below the membranes of her wings. "I think the thing on the zipper's too small for my fingers. Could you give me a hand?" 

Fox chuckled as she moved to assist the girl. The flowing skirt was slit high up the back to allow for the tail, but above that point the fitted waist was secured by a concealed zipper. The auburn-haired woman gently pushed Angela's hands away, giving a wry grin as she found the tiny pull. "It looks like Clive still has a few things to learn about designing fashions for today's modern gargoyle," she commented. As the skirt fell free, she handed it off to Angela and moved her hands up the gargoyle's back to the similar fastenings on the halter. She stepped away as Angela shed the small pieces of fabric and retrieved for her the tunic which hung draped over the top of the partition. 

"Thanks, Fox," Jezebella said, accepting the garment. She had drawn her wings loosely about her body, maintaining a minimal degree of modesty, but the human woman still glanced away until she had pulled the tunic on. 

"Are you sure you're up for giving the interview tonight, too?" Fox asked. Moving in behind Angela again, she went to work helping her with the laces by drawing snug the ones beneath her arms as the gargoyle did up the front. "Maya seems trustworthy. We can always invite her to come by the castle tomorrow night."

"No, I'm fine," Jezebella replied. She took the belt Fox offered next, threading it about her waist and buckling it tight before turning to the mirror and making a final adjustment to the lacing at the tunic's bust line. "They've got a deadline to meet, and I want to just get this all out of the way tonight. Besides, I don't know how long I'll be stuck talking to Elisa's boss tomorrow night."

Fox frowned. "That's right. I'd forgotten about her." Her expression brightened again, however, as Angela turned around, smoothing the last of the tunic's wrinkles away with her talons. She hadn't thought it was possible, but somehow Angela had managed to show even more cleavage than usual without the display becoming obscene.

"Well?" Jezebella asked, thrusting her chest forward proudly. Grinning, she placed her hands on her hips, flared her wings, and lashed her tail. "How do I look?"

"Like the 'goyle next door," Fox chuckled. She reached out, brushing a stray strand of the girl's dark hair back into place behind her pointed ear, and returned Angela's eager smile with one of her own. "Now get back out there and knock 'em dead, Ang."

* * * * *

****

Wyvern Castle: Next Evening

"Captain Chavez!" Elisa tried for nonchalance and nearly made it. She was trapped in the Great Hall, a cup of tea in one hand and the evening paper in the other, with nowhere to hide.

"Detective. That's a new look for you." Chavez replied, her voice quiet. It was obvious as she crossed her arms over her chest she was looking forward to an explanation as to why one of her detectives was wandering barefoot through the home of one of New York's most prominent and notorious citizens.

Elisa glanced down at her new attire and wished she had waited for room service. Her own clothes had been taken for cleaning and she hadn't kept anything appropriate at the castle, as far as Fox was concerned, for convalescing. So after the doctors had checked her over and decided she had done no new damage to herself, and decreed that she could sleep outside the hospital wing, and after Goliath had helped her back to their unofficial suite, the mistress of the castle had dropped by, inquired after her health and gifted her with the pair of jade green silk lounging pajamas that the captain was now eyeing with expectation of an explanation. "It's not what you think."

Chavez eyed her skeptically. "Really, detective. And just what do I think?"

__

This was not going to go well at all, Elisa thought grimly. And just to make things worse Goliath was storming towards her. And it was obvious even from a distance that he was far from pleased.

"Elisa, why are you not in bed? The doctor was very explicit in her instructions for you to rest." Belatedly he noticed the presence of the police captain and turned on her. "Good evening, Captain Chavez." 

She nodded but did not reply fascinated by the unfolding scene. While the gargoyle was clearly furious with her detective, it was obvious that his ire was driven by concern for her well-being. 

"Not now, Goliath," Elisa replied irritated. "Can't you see there's company?"

"I have already acknowledged the Captain's presence," the gargoyle replied stiffly. "Angela informed me that she had scheduled an interview. Since you are on medical leave clearly you may be exempted from such proceedings."

He glanced at Chavez as if expecting confirmation. The police captain involuntarily took a step backwards and nodded. "That's correct. Frankly, I'm somewhat surprised to find Detective Maza here. I was under the impression that she wasn't supposed to be any place but home recuperating."

"I was!" Elisa protested. She paled, the stress of being out of bed and embroiled in confrontation getting to her. Her knees began to buckle as a fresh wave of pain coursed through her skull. She lost her grip on the mug and it smashed, scattering tea and china across the floor. The newspaper followed and tea wicked into newsprint.

Goliath caught her before she collapsed entirely. "This is my home." He scooped the ailing detective effortlessly into his arms. There was no mistaking the love or the concern etched on the gargoyle's craggy features or the way the detective rested her head intimately against the pale lavender skin at the base of his collarbone. "Elisa is under my care. Now if you'll excuse me, she needs rest."

Elisa, belatedly realizing she was cuddling against the gargoyle's chest in front of her boss, closed her eyes and willed away the pain protesting, "Goliath, put me down! I'm fine!"

Goliath sighed. Patiently, as if dealing with a small and difficult child, he replied. "No, you are not. You have become overtired and it's time for your medication." He turned to Captain Chavez. "If you will excuse us, please."

Chavez started to protest the gargoyle's proprietary treatment. She had questions that demanded answers and injured or not, it was time Elisa supplied them. But she needn't have bothered. Goliath was already sweeping his way out of the Great Hall, chastising softly the woman in his arms. A few moments later, a delicate female gargoyle entered and with her sable hair and confident bearing there was little mistaking the family resemblance. "Ms. Angela." Chavez said, her voice a trifle shaky as she attempted to pull her thoughts away from her detective's personal life and back to the matter at hand. "I'm Captain Maria Chavez. I'm very pleased to meet you. Is there some place we can talk?"

Jezabella nodded briskly. "Yes, of course. Won't you follow me, please?" She led the human woman into an alcove off the Great Hall. It was a small chamber with heavy brocade tapestries on the walls and several severely carved pieces of wood furniture spaced at appropriate intervals. An ornately decorated rug covered the slates of the floor. "Will this do?" 

"It's fine." Chavez smoothed the edge of her burgundy summer weight wool skirt as she sat down in the proffered chair and tried to compose her thoughts, but the presence of Elisa at the castle bothered her in a way that refused to be pushed aside. "We'll get to the other night in a minute," she began, smoothing her skirt once more. "Tell me a little about Elisa Maza first, if you don't mind. How long have you known her?"

Jezabella's eyes narrowed for a second and then she adopted a casual tone. This was a strange turn of events. Why would the police captain be so curious about her own detective? Unless… "Elisa? Ever since I came to New York. She's always been a friend to the clan. Human ways are quite different from our own sometimes. She helps us to understand."

Chavez shifted slightly, crossing and recrossing her legs. She leaned forward slightly in a comfortable listening pose. Just a chat between us girls, her posture seemed to suggest. "I see. Customs, societal conventions, that sort of thing."

"Yes. To gargoyles, human society can be very perplexing. Your concepts of inclusion and exclusion based on physical differences, for example. For us it makes little sense."

"You're not suggesting that all humans look alike, are you?" Chavez replied carefully. 

Jezabella shook her head. "No, of course not. All individuals are unique. But you humans go out of your way to categorize yourselves and then complain about the labels. It is a difficult concept."

Chavez considered Angela's words for a moment. "Yes, I suppose it is. And Elisa explains these things to you."

The gargoyle nodded. "As best as she can. Though I think sometimes she doesn't quite understand either. She has taught us it is the person one is, not how one looks that is important. Elisa can be quite gargoyle-like in her outlook at times."

__

Well that was a perfect opening, Chavez reflected. "I saw her a little while ago with Goliath. She seems quite at home here."

"She was injured fighting my…" Jezabella choked up as she imagined Angela might. "…that robot. It nearly killed her." _And don't I wish I had_. Father thought it would be easier to care for her if she stayed with us for a while."

"So she is the guest of your clan," Chavez clarified. "And not David Xanatos." 

Jezabella shrugged. Chavez watched as the tiny hands at the tips of her wings unclasped and clasped again as she resettled her wings. "We share the castle. Xanatos owns it in the legal sense, but it is our ancestral home."

"It sounds like a cozy arrangement. I imagine having friends like Mr. and Mrs. Xanatos comes in handy."

The gargoyle templed her true hands in her lap, studying them for a moment before meeting the police captain's eyes. "We live in a dangerous world. Powerful allies are always useful." 

Chavez nodded and let the comment pass. 

"I suppose it was odd to find Elisa here," Jezabella mused. "Despite being my father's mate she insists on living away from the clan. Something about the type of impropriety you seem to be hinting at." Maria Chavez froze, willing herself not to fall back into the chair. Her eyes were wide with shock and the clone suppressed a smirk. "Oh! Maybe I shouldn't have said that. I just assumed that Elisa had confided in you. You did know they were mates," she asked innocently. "Didn't you?"

"Of course," Chavez replied. She was a veteran of a thousand interrogation room bombshells. She forced her features to remain placid, pushing away the thought of Goliath, dripping and towel-clad, emerging from Elisa's bedroom as she continued. "Perhaps we had better move on. Where were you the night Detective Maza was injured?"

Jezabella shook her head. It was odd, but the ready answer slipped from her tongue as her memory went hazy. Why did she have vague remembrances of blinding pain. Of terror? Of profound relief as she was cradled in another's wings? "I'm sorry," she managed. "It's still difficult to think about that evening. I was here. I'm a student of ancient languages and I was in my room studying."

"I see. And on these dates?" Chavez pulled a small notebook out of her pocket and listed off a half a dozen nights over the course of the previous months. 

"I was in the company of my clanmates, modeling for Andrea Calhoun or speaking before the public. I'd have to get my appointment book to verify exactly what I was doing on each night, Captain, but my schedule is very full and I seldom have much time when I'm completely alone."

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary," Chavez replied. "Your movements have been accounted for from independent witnesses. The question was merely a formality."

"I see." Jezabella looked at the policewoman with depthless black eyes. "Are we finished then, Captain. I don't wish to seem hasty, but I am rather busy."

Chavez rose and held out her hand. The gargoyle clasped her wrist instead. "You've been very helpful, Ms. Angela. Thank you for your time." 

"You're quite welcome." Jezabella released her wrist and pulled a bell cord that hung near the paired chairs. "If you'll excuse me, Owen will show you out."

The gargoyle departed with a graceful resettling of her delicate wings and Captain Maria Chavez slumped back into the carved wooden chair, utterly nonplused. 

* * * * *

__

To be continued…


	4. Part 4

****

Home is a Dark Place, Part 4

Written by: Madame Destine  
Email: m_destine@hotmail.com

****

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters belong to their various creators: Buena Vista Television / The Walt Disney Company and The Gargoyles Saga, and they are used without their express knowledge or consent.

* * * * *

"Where's Bluestone?" Captain Chavez inquired of the Bullpen at large as soon as she returned to the 23rd Precinct. 

The half a dozen detectives present looked up at their normally reserved Captain's irritated tone. While most shrugged, Bonnie Williams, a new transferee from the 42nd sang out, "Meeting with the Feebs and Jersey cops."

"Thank you, detective. Tell him I want to see him as soon as he gets back." Chavez brushed through the room and drew the blind on her office window, indicating she didn't wish to be disturbed. 

A few minutes later the detective in question entered juggling a new stack of reports and a large cup of coffee. Williams flagged him over. "Captain wants to see you. Now. And she seems kind of upset."

Bluestone regarded the detective with the short spiky red hair and oval rimmed glasses. "Upset how?"

Williams pursed her lips trying to fit a good analogy to the Chavez's bristling agitation. "I'm not sure, but I remember seeing that particular look once on my dad's face."

Bluestone frowned with non-comprehension. "Your dad? I don't get it."

Williams considered her thoughts a second time and shook her head. "There was this football player…" She shrugged. "Forget it. It's probably nothing. I've only been here a week and I don't really know the Skipper yet. Maybe she looks that way when you don't type your incident reports correctly."

"Could be," Matt agreed. Williams was shaping up to being something of a goofball. "I guess I better go find out."

"But I don't think so," her voice trailed after him as he made his way to Chavez's office.

Matt knocked on the glass before entering. "You wanted to see me, Captain?"

Chavez looked up. Her desk was nearly clean, the stacks of files that normally occupied her time shoved to one side. A single folder, plenty thick and stamped 'Private' and 'Confidential' sat before her. She drummed her fingers on the file for a minute before shoving it into her desk. 

"Any progress?" 

Matt didn't have to ask about what. All of his other active cases had been pushed off on other detectives or reprioritized. "Print evidence is back. I've got it here. I'll be reviewing it later."

"No other leads?"

"Yeah, one thing came up during the meeting. One firm did all of the biohazard waste disposal for all the companies hit. They're the only outside contractor in common. I'm going to go talk to them tomorrow."

"Push them hard." Chavez indicated a chair. "Sit down, Matt. I want to talk to you about something else."

Matt took a seat in the straight-backed and barely padded chair and set his folder on the desk. "Sure, Cap."

Chavez looked down, pinched the bridge of her nose for a second and pulled the file back out of desk. "It's about your partner."

Matt set the coffee cup down. "She's okay isn't she? She didn't pick up when I called earlier but I thought she was taking a nap."

"You wouldn't have found her at home," Chavez replied. "She's in the care of her mate at the Eyrie Building."

Matt swallowed. He reached for his coffee cup and missed, knocking the contents all over the folder of fingerprint comparisons. He leapt to his feet and yanked a handkerchief from his suit pocket and started to blot at the desk and reports. When the worst of the spill had been contained he dumped the sodden cotton square into the now empty plastic coffee cup and looked up at Chavez. "Did you say 'mate'?

"You didn't mishear me, detective," Chavez replied. "Sit down, wipe that innocent look off your face and please don't insult me by acting surprised. Detective Maza is involved in an intimate relationship with the leader of the gargoyle clan."

__

Why was it, Matt wondered as he sunk back into the chair, _when you finally got around to a conversation you knew you were going to have eventually, it never, ever, went anything like what played out in your head?_

"They've known each other a long time," he admitted. "And Goliath is a stand up guy."

"He's not a guy, Detective," Chavez snapped tightly. "In case you failed to notice, he's a gargoyle." 

Matt leaned back in his chair. Captain Chavez, poster woman for the colorblind workforce, was squicked out by his partner's love life. "No Captain, I'm a regular Sherlock. The wings and purple skin kind of gave it away for me. But I am kind of clueless about the point of this conversation. Elisa's love life is her personal business. And it's not as if she married Tony Dracon."

"No, Dracon is a felon, but at least he's human."

Matt clamped his teeth together hard enough to make his jaw ache. It took a minute before he trusted himself to speak without being completely insubordinate. "Captain, I'm afraid I must not be as good of a detective as I thought. I've heard you make statements to the press advocating tolerance. I've heard you make statements thanking the gargoyles for their work on behalf of the city and this police force. Were you lying? Or are they only good enough to take out our trash?"

"I didn't say that," Chavez replied. "I didn't say that at all." She sighed and pinched her nose again. "This relationship." She tapped the file folder and Matt recognized it as the one she had showed them several nights earlier. "Coupled with the larger pattern of Detective Maza's subterfuge on behalf of the clan… There are others within the department that won't be at all tolerant when they find out. I won't be able to shield her from a disciplinary hearing, or you either for that matter. You're her partner. A disciplinary panel will assume you were complicit as well."

"On what charges?" Bluestone demanded. 

"The most likely?" Chavez held her hand up in the air and closed her fingers one after the other as she ticked off, "Interfering with police investigations. Evidence tampering. Shielding suspects. Aiding and abetting various escape efforts during the past several years."

"But there are no active cases pending against the clan," Matt argued back.

"Only because of the current political pressure from Washington," Chavez explained impatiently. "You know as well as I do there are those within the department and the district attorney's office that would just as soon haul them into court for inciting riots. And don't forget that Ms. Angela was just barely cleared in the Midtown Medical assault."

"But she was alibied and not by Elisa or me," Matt said. "And the Quarrymen and their ilk are not the gargoyles' fault."

"This is getting us nowhere," Chavez replied, cutting the argument short. "I called you in here to tell you that I know about the relationship and that it's a problem. It's Maza's problem. It's your problem. And now it's my problem. I should suspend the both of you pending an internal review, but since your partner is out on medical leave and I need you on this case, I'm going to table the matter for the next several days."

"Fine," Matt bit out. There really wasn't anything else to say. "May I get back to work now?"

Chavez nodded. "Break this case, Matt. Break it wide open."

Matt got up, scooped up his soggy reports and went back to his desk.

* * * * *

****

Destine Manor

Jezebella trailed a talon over the page before her, tracing along the outline of the figure drawn upon the paper. With Andrea gone on holiday, the quiet confines of Destine Manor had made for a welcome retreat from the hustle and bustle of Castle Wyvern. She had arrived to find only a handwritten letter left on the coffee table, giving directions on which plants to water when and a telephone number for the resort in New Mexico that she and Marilyn - whoever that was - had headed off to. It was the last short paragraph, though, that had caught her attention and stopped her from immediately discarding the note. "I have some ideas for the next painting," Andrea had written. "Take a look through my sketchbook, and we'll talk about it when I get back."

Jezebella's tail twitched as she contemplated the most provocative of the half dozen poses the artist had drawn. The pencil sketch was rough, conveying only the most basic aspects of the pose Andrea was looking for, so Jezebella had no idea whether the woman intended for her model to be clothed or nude. She knew her sister had already modeled in the buff for the painting that was the centerpiece of Andrea's current exhibit at the Met, though, so she could only suppose that she would have to be ready to do the same. "The things I have to do to keep up appearances," she muttered. She closed the sketchbook and cast it back onto the table, suddenly not finding the images upon its pages as welcome of a diversion as they had been a moment before. "Damn you, sister," she hissed, "why does your life have to be so fucking complicated?"

She drew her feet up onto couch, hugging her knees to her chest as an irrational, unfocused wave of anger rode over her. She had slipped away from the castle to escape the pressures of her sister's life for a few hours, but even here in her intended sanctuary she was being reminded of the obligations she had unknowingly assumed by taking Angela's place. Jezebella closed her eyes and drew her wings in tight. She could already feel the next migraine coming on, a dull throbbing starting up again deep in the back of her head. Dr. Goldblum and Dr. Sevarius had both promised her that the headaches would go away in time, and so far they'd both been wrong. Jezebella growled under her breath, but she didn't even bother checking her belt pouch. She'd already taken the last of her nightly allotment of pain pills during her and Broadway's aborted meeting with Ptah hours earlier.

Listening to the old Egyptian gargoyle talk for any length of time was probably enough to give anyone a headache, Jezebella mused. She had sat and conversed with Elisa's boss with no apparent ill effects, but the minute she'd joined Broadway for the meeting with Ptah her head had started to pound. As she sat quietly in her chair, feigning interest as the elder reiterate the benefits to Clan Wyvern of handing over Angela and Broadway's egg to be raised by his clan, the pain behind her eyes had continued to grow. She had taken her last two pills, yet still the pain had increased, until at last it became so intense that she'd nearly blacked out.

She couldn't even remember the last thing she'd said, or how she had gotten to the infirmary and ended up lying on an examination table. The next thing she knew, Broadway was clucking over her as if she were a hatchling, and Dr. Goldblum was taking her temperature and checking her blood pressure. After he was done poking and prodding, he'd given her some more pills to take and warned her that she'd reached her limit for the night. It had required a lot of fast talking after that, but in the end she had convinced the doctor that she did not need to be admitted back into the ICU. Convincing Broadway that she would be fine on her own, however, had been another matter entirely. Two more long hours had passed before she had been able to get him leave her be and join the others on patrol, so that she could slip away from the castle for some much needed peace and quiet.

Jezebella pressed her fingers to her temples and, keeping her eyes clenched tightly shut, drew in a deep breath through her nose. If she tried hard enough, perhaps she could _will_ the new headache away. It was worth a try, at any rate, since the medication obviously wasn't working. The night so far had just been one thing competing for her attention after another, and headache or no headache, she desperately needed a moment to clear her head and think. Sunset had woken her from a vivid nightmare, and she still had not been able to reconcile her initial waking reaction to it in any way that truly made sense. All night long, she'd been pretending everything was okay, but with the way things were going, she wasn't sure how much longer Broadway would keep accepting her declarations of "I'm fine, really, I am," at face value.

There was more to the story of her relationship with her sister than she could presently recall, of that much she was certain. There just had to be, because too many things just weren't making sense. Why had she left the clan in the first place, and why did the rest of the clan never speak of Angela's sister? Those would seem to be simple questions, yet clear and definite answers had eluded her at every turn. Indeed, until last night all she'd been able to muster as a possible explanation was a vague recollection that she had last parted ways with her twin sister under less than pleasant circumstances.

Jezebella shuddered, a chill running down her back and along the edges of her wings. She was afraid, there was no doubt about that, but of what she was not sure. Perhaps she feared that she would not like the truth when she found it. Or perhaps she was more afraid that if things continued as they were, the others would soon recognize her as a fraud. Or worse yet, she pondered, recalling the worried look that Broadway had given her earlier, they'd decide she was going mad.

"No," Jezebella muttered. "I'm not going crazy." She drew another deep breath, steeling herself for what she knew she must do. Fear had already gotten the better of her once tonight, but the doubts and unanswered questions had grown too strong to be ignored any longer. Her memories of her life with the clan were too hazy to offer any solace. If she waited too much longer, what little she could recall of her dream and the waking moments that followed might fade away as well. Reluctantly, she turned her senses inward, forcing the events from hours before to replay in her mind.

* * *

She was falling, tumbling toward the pavement, her wings hopelessly entangled in the heavy net that had enveloped her from above. She met the ground shoulder-first, talons tearing futilely at the thick ropes as the sharp pain of impact knocked the wind from her lungs. Her momentum carried her into a roll. Once. Twice. Three times. Each bump brought more pain as the gravel and bits of broken glass that littered the alleyway cut into her skin.

"Good work, Quarrymen!" a voice shouted. She looked up, still out of breath. A group of large men clad in hoods and uniforms of a deep midnight blue encircled her. Their leader's eyes gleamed in the dim light. Anger, hatred… and something else. Something much more sinister. A lump formed in her throat, and suddenly she knew she had to get away. 

Her eyes flared red as she struggled to sit up and break free from the tangled net, but the men were upon her in seconds, forcing her roughly back to the ground. Jezebella gave an angry, hissing growl as strong hands pinned her wrists and ankles, but it turned into a gasping squeak as a heavy boot was pressed down on her neck. She arched her back, trying to wrench herself free, but the touch of an electrified hammer to her midriff sent a fiery arc of pain screaming through her gut. She shook violently then collapsed, able only to pant helplessly for several long moments as gloved hands pawed her, tugging at her clothing.

Jezebella lay still, panic filling her eyes. Struggling to ignore the pain, she desperately scanned the darkened rooftops above for salvation. She gasped, surprised to spot the dark-haired female gargoyle who stared back down at her.

"Sister! Please, help me!" The cry took the last ounce of her strength, and it earned her a hard, backhanded slap from the hooded man who loomed over her. Jezebella's ears rang with the blow and her vision momentarily blurred as Angela spread her wings and leapt from the rooftop, but she blinked her eyes clear in time to watch her sister bank to the side and glide away. 

"No! Please, no!" she managed before a second painful shock seared through her. Jezebella screamed, then stilled once more. She ached all over, and she winced as the new pain of violation was compounded upon all the others. Numbly, she stared up through a haze of tears into the cold, emotionless eyes of her assailant. "Why?" she mouthed, no breath left for words.

"Because you're in the way, _sister_," Angela's voice replied, "and I want you gone. Permanently." Jezebella groaned in agony as the pressure on her throat suddenly increased. Tilting her head back, she gasped raggedly for air, her eyes going wide with undisguised terror. The Quarryman whose boot had been on her neck just moments before was gone, replaced by her own sister! Angela grinned maliciously and bore down with her full weight. "You always _were_ the weak one, Jessie," she hissed. "Goodbye."

* * *

"Angela? Angela, are you okay?"

Jezebella coughed violently, doubling over as Broadway steadied her and eased her back from the edge of the parapet. She could still feel the talons upon her neck as he helped her down onto the balcony, the ghostly sensation lingering even as the equally sickening feeling of strange hands fondling her rapidly faded. "I'm fine," she managed unconvincingly between coughs. She leaned into the big blue gargoyle's embrace, allowing herself to be held as she took deep breaths and struggled to make sense of the nightmare from which she had just awakened.

Broadway wrapped his wings about his mate's slender frame and gently stroked her hair, brushing from it the remaining fragments of stone skin. "You've been overdoing it, Ang," he said. "This proves it. I knew I shouldn't have let Fox make you do that silly magazine stuff." He cradled her chin in his talons and sighed, forcing himself to calm. "It's just like with Elisa," he said gently. "You're still not back to one hundred percent, babe. You've gotta stop pushing yourself so hard."

Jezebella straightened and shook her head in protest. "Broadway, I'm fine, really. And I thought I'd already told you. Fox didn't _make_ me do the photo shoot, I _chose_ to. Just as I've chosen to keep modeling for Andrea." She stepped back, forcing him to break the winged embrace. "Besides, that's got nothing to do with this. I… I just had a bad dream, that's all." She tried to give a reassuring smile despite the doubts that nagged at her. Had it truly all been just a bad dream, or was there something more to it than that? The nightmarish images had fragmented as she awakened, but random pieces flickered now her mind's eye, steadfastly refusing to be ignored and eliciting an unsettling feeling of déjà vu. 

"You brought this on yourself, sister." Another moment in time flashed before her eyes, this one not from her dream. Angela was binding her hands with rope, a wicked and satisfied smile upon her face as she cinched the bonds painfully tight. "I told you he was _mine_ but you just wouldn't listen, would you?"

"This isn't fair! I never even…"

"Stupid little slut," Angela snapped, jerking the lead she had attached to Jezebella's bound wrists. "I've won, so why don't you just accept it? Stop whining, and be grateful that your only being banished from the clan instead of put to death for your crimes. Conspiring with Demona against us. For shame, sister!"

Tears welled in Jezebella's eyes. "That's a lie! I was never in league with her!" she protested.

"Ang?"

Jezebella blinked, realizing by the confused look upon Broadway's face that she must have just spoken aloud. As he stared at her with a look of intense concern, holding her hands in his, suddenly it all seemed to click. Her twin sister Angela had always been jealous of her. Yes. She was sure of it now. Angela had been insanely jealous, as well as paranoid. She had feared that her sister was also interested in Broadway, so she had sought to get her out of the way.

"Angela?"

Jezebella squeezed her eyes closed, grimacing as if in pain as she fought to recall the memories. Jealousy and betrayal. Angela weaving a web of lies and unfounded accusations. The Maza woman assisting her sister, leading the charge to have her expelled from the clan. The indignity of being bound and escorted to the edge of the protectorate, warned never to return under penalty of death. Abandonment and loneliness. The Quarrymen giving chase. Terror and pain. Angela looking on dispassionately from above, then gliding away in the ultimate betrayal. Darkness and agony. Embracing certain death… and awaking to salvation. Jezebella's head reeled with each new recollection. It explained so much, but why hadn't she been able to remember any of it until now?

"Angela?" Broadway moved his hands to his mate's shoulders, shaking her as he called her name louder. "Angela, wake up!"

Jezebella's eyes snapped open as the abrupt motion jolted her back to reality. She blinked rapidly several times, her head spinning as everything she had been so certain of just seconds before shattered into a million tiny pieces. "I…" Jezebella froze. Whatever she'd been about to say was forgotten before the words ever reached her mouth. A dull roaring like the crashing of ocean waves filled her ears, and her eyes darted randomly about the room. She felt lightheaded and confused, but vaguely she was aware of taking a half step as Broadway pulled her again into his protective embrace.

"I think we should get you to the infirmary, Angela," he said gently. "You're not well."

"No, love. Please." Jezebella wrapped her arms about the big gargoyle's waist, drawing herself closer to him, and lay her head against his chest. She closed her eyes, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill forth, and nuzzled against him for comfort. "I just need a minute," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Broadway drew his wings about them again, responding to his mate's distress the only way he knew how. Jezebella sighed as he stroked her hair, and she rubbed her browridge along his angular jaw. "Better now?" he asked cautiously, after a long moment of silence.

Jezebella nodded. "Yes," she said at last. "It was just a bad dream. I didn't mean to scare you."

The look on Broadway's face betrayed his worry and skepticism. "You're sure you don't want to see the doctor, Angela?"

"I'm sure," she replied. Jezebella mustered a smile and curled her tail about his ankle, pressing her cheek to his broad chest once more. "I don't need any more doctors," she murmured as the last of the dizziness evaporated. "I've got you."

* * *

Jezebella blinked her eyes open for the second time that night, only this time the dream memories did _not_ scatter back into the dark corners of her mind like cockroaches scurrying from the light. She rose from the coach and resettled her wings as she surveyed the dimly lit room. There was no confusion this time, either. She knew where she was and, more importantly, she now knew _who_ she was. She was Jezebella, the twin sister Angela had cruelly betrayed all those years ago. "But now I'm back," she muttered, an odd smirk coming to her face, "and I've got her life _and_ her mate." Jezebella tilted her head back and laughed, her voice echoing through the empty house. _And how wonderfully ironic is that?_ she added mentally. All of Angela's lies, all of her scheming to eject her from her home, all to keep her away from a gargoyle she'd never really found attractive in the first place… and now it was she who had both Broadway and the clan, and Angela who was cast away, alone and forgotten. 

The thought made Jezebella smile all the more. "This calls for some gloating. Oh yes. I think it's time to pay my dear sister a visit."

* * * * *

****

Castle Wyvern

Brooklyn sat back in the functional yet comfortable chair in the security booth, watching Ptah pace with increasing agitation. Being a timedancer had its occasional advantages, he admitted to himself. It had left him older, wiser and more tempered than when he'd been swept away by the Phoenix Gate. It had also given him, among other useful skills, a decent grasp of electronics and a more intimate knowledge of the castle that Xanatos didn't know he possessed. Which is why he was able to repose in the secondary camera station, eliminating the unseemly need to peek at keyholes. Brooklyn had watched unseen from two floors away as the Egyptian braced Broadway and Angela in the library for nearly forty-five minutes, talking until Angela had slumped forward in her chair and Broadway had chased him out.

Now he was working at wearing a trench in the flagstones of the guest chamber, holding a cell phone in his talons. Brooklyn adjusted the camera angle slightly. Unobserved, the tiny device, mounted in a recessed light fixture, adjusted itself, allowing the former timedancer to contemplate the scene more clearly. Ptah's lips began to move and Brooklyn switched on the audio pickup.

The elder gargoyle flipped open the phone and stabbed tentatively at a button. His talon hovered over a second and he snapped the device shut and flung it away. The phone skittered across the stones and landed under the dressing table. "I cannot!" he proclaimed. "I dare not admit defeat to Van Winkle." He paced another circuit. "The female is infirm. I can use that. If not with her overbearing mate, then with Goliath."

"Van Winkle? Who's Van Winkle?" Brooklyn wondered as he watched Ptah retrieve the cell phone and tuck it back away in his belt pouch. The elder didn't answer. In fact, he ceased to speak at all, his one sided discussion temporarily ended. He knelt on the floor pressing the stubs of his horns to the stones and began to mutter in Egyptian.

Brooklyn upped the volume and listened carefully. He recognized words of an old prayer, one warriors used to give them strength in battle and courage when facing great trial. Clearly, Ptah was a pawn in a much bigger game. A braid of snowy white hair found its way between his talons and he fingered it contemplatively. Apparently there was something to the rumors Geb had related. It seemed Ptah had unsavory allies, ones even he was afraid of displeasing. But that begged the question, who?

Ptah ended his prayer and took to his feet. Brooklyn watched, switching camera positions until he was sure of the elder's destination. He was headed out of the castle.

Hopefully this time Ptah had a purpose, because Brooklyn was getting tired of watching the Egyptian sulk in Central Park.

* * * * *

****

New Jersey

"Jez? Hey, Jez, wait up a sec!" Candy jogged down the hall and fell in beside the lavender-skinned gargoyle, matching her hurried pace. "Jeez, girlfriend, you're in a rush. Where's the fire?" she said, touching her lightly on the shoulder.

Jezebella turned her head and regarded the other woman coolly, but did not break step. "I've got business to attend to, halfling," she answered curtly. "What do you want?"

Candy removed her hand, reading the girl's heightened level of agitation in the strange look on her face and the flat tone of her voice. _Did she just call me 'halfling' again? _Candy blinked, wondering for a moment if she'd heard the girl right. She had to glance down at the scrap of fabric in her hand to remember what she was originally going to say. "You dropped this the other night, Jez," she said. "I've been holding onto it, and I thought you might want it back."

"Oh?" Jezebella accepted the piece of needlework and paused mid-stride as she spotted the words embroidered upon it. "'Our First Egg,'" she read aloud. "Ah, yes. Maza's gift for Angela's precious little contribution to the rookery." She looked up, the contemplative frown upon her face changing into an odd smirk as she made eye contact with Candy. "I'd nearly forgotten about this. Thank you for returning it to me, Candace. It'll make the perfect gift for my dear sister."

Candy raised an eyebrow at the wicked undertone to the gargoyle's words. It seemed that Jezebella was in a much different mood tonight than she had been the last time they had spoken two nights previous. She stayed beside the girl as Jezebella resumed her course down the hall. "So does that mean you _are_ going to have a talk with her after all?" she queried.

Jezebella nodded. "Yes. Our reunion is long overdue." She cast a sideways glance at Candy, the same sly smirk of anticipation still gracing her lips. "I know you wanted to be in on this, Candace, but Angela and I have a number of, how shall I say it, _personal_ issues to discuss. Private stuff, just between sisters." She placed a taloned hand on Candy's shoulder, smiling meaningfully as they reached the elevator. "I hope you understand."

The halfling woman regarded her gargoyle cohort carefully. "Sure. Of course, Jez." She was surprised how easy she found it to suppress the disappointment she might have otherwise felt at being excluded from the fun. Instead, it was unease that crept into her voice as she wondered at the impetus behind the girl's renewed interest in her captive sibling. Two nights ago when she'd suggested spending some time interrogating Angela as a means to further their new mission, Jezebella could hardly have been less enthusiastic. Sevarius had already questioned her, she had insisted, and there was nothing more to be gained. Yet now the eagerness for a moment alone with Angela radiated off Jezebella in waves. It was like she was back to her old, evil self again, Candy mused. Strangely, though, she wasn't finding that thought comforting in the least.

As Jezebella patted her on the shoulder and flashed a fanged grin, however, Candy said no more. "Don't worry," Jezebella offered, "I'll make it up to you. My sister's social calendar is pretty clear right now. I'm certain I can get you scheduled in for a little… one on one time."

Candy felt a knot forming in her stomach. "That sounds… great, Jez. Thanks." She watched as the gargoyle stepped into the elevator, waiting until the doors had closed before turning and heading back to her quarters. Something odd was definitely going on with Jezebella, and if Sevarius and Ling weren't going to clue her in on the source of the girl's bizarre mood swings… well… then she'd just have to figure it out on her own.

* * * * *

Angela sat on the floor of her cell, knees pulled to her chest and wings drawn about her nude form to ward off the chill that hung ever-present in the still, damp air. Over a week had gone by since her abduction. She had kept track of the passing days and nights as best she could, scratching a mark on the concrete floor with her talon every night upon awakening from her stone slumber. It was a ritual she'd seen in movies, but its usefulness as a way of keeping track of time had only become clear to her once she'd started doing it herself. There were eight marks now, counting the fresh one she had made hours earlier, so that meant her captivity had gone on for eight nights… more or less. That was the annoying part. She couldn't be exactly sure because she hadn't started keeping tally right away, and the first few nights of the ordeal were little more than one massive blur thanks to the drugs Dr. Sevarius and the woman who was working with him had administered while interrogating her.

What had he called her anyway? Leela? Layla? Lilith? Angela supposed it didn't really matter. Whoever the female doctor was, she was sorely lacking in beside manner. She made a perfect partner for Sevarius, in fact, which was why Angela had decided within five minutes of meeting her that she didn't like her one bit. As much as those first few nights had made her come to abhor their joint attentions, however, she was becoming more worried now by the fact that she'd had no contact with anyone at all for the past three nights. She could remember Sevarius cryptically mentioning a "Plan B" before knocking her out for the last time, and that had been the last she'd seen of him. Neither he nor the Asian woman had visited again, and none of his goons had been down to check on her during the night, either. On one hand, this had been a relief, for it had finally allowed her to rest and given her time to think. On the other hand, all the thinking she'd done had led to wondering what sort of nefarious scheme Sevarius was hatching, what he had planned for her clone, and what kind of future torments were in store for her if she continued to remain a prisoner here.

The questions gnawed at her now. Was deliberately ignoring her just a new form of torture? If so, it was working. Already, the isolation was becoming intolerable, to the point where she would almost prefer being drugged and strapped down to a medical table for more questioning to spending another long night alone in the dead silence of her dark, dungeon-like cell. Angela shivered, her dark eyes peering into the empty gloom that surrounded her. She was beginning to appreciate what it must have truly been like for Danny to endure all those days and nights alone in his tiny cell down in Sector 13. Solitary confinement, as she supposed Elisa would call it. Angela didn't like it one bit, so she didn't suppose that Danny had particularly enjoyed it, either. "At least the cage he was in had a bed, though," she muttered, "and a light bulb."

Angela sighed miserably. Danny hadn't been kept in chains, either, for whatever that was worth. Quietly, she stared down at the heavy shackles locked about her wrists and ankles. She had worn them for so many nights now, she realized with no small degree of horror, she was actually starting to become acclimated to them. Angela lifted her hands, tugging and rattling the short chain that joined the snugly fitting wrist cuffs to the one locked tightly about her narrow waist. The small movement was enough to restore conscious realization of the full extent of her bondage. The shackles on her wrists and ankles… the chains that bound her wings… the strange, stiff leather collar she'd awoken to find locked firmly about her neck on the second night of her captivity. Angela pressed her eyes closed, struggling for a long moment to keep the sense of hopelessness the renewed sensations elicited from overwhelming her once again. "Get a hold of yourself, Angela," she chided, whispering to herself. "You've been taught better than this." 

She pictured Demona standing before her, a hard glare of disapproval in her ageless eyes. "Crying solves nothing, child," she imagined her mother lecturing. "You must remain strong and keep your wits about you. A true warrior never shows weakness to her foe!" 

Angela let out a long, slow breath, drawing her senses inward and refocusing them as she'd been trained. She needed to come up with a plan. She couldn't just sit here and wait for the clan to come to her rescue. The clone was out there pretending to be her, and even once they realized she was an impostor, they would have no way of knowing where to start looking for the real Angela. Distressingly, though, their odds of being able to find her still looked much better than any chance she had of making an escape on her own. The iron bars and the force field just beyond them had seen to that, and even if she did manage to get past them, she would still be handicapped by the chains, and the shock collar she was forced to wear would not let her get far anyway.

The skin on the back of her neck itched beneath the firm strap of leather, a lingering and irritating reminder of the power Sevarius held over her by means of his latest remote control toy. She'd received her first painful introduction to the collar's cruel range of capabilities only hours after finding it upon her neck on the second full night of her imprisonment. The female doctor, what's-her-name, had entered her cell and was attempting to approach her with a long hypodermic needle. The door was open behind her, and seizing the opportunity, Angela had rushed her, knocking her down with her tail before bolting from the cell. She had only made it a few feet beyond the bars when she felt the two sharp pinpricks in the back of her neck. In an instant, her world went red with pain. For five excruciating seconds, she howled in agony, her whole body feeling like it was on fire. When the shock of pain finally receded and her vision returned, she found herself on her knees. Dazed, she stared up blankly at a grinning Dr. Sevarius. 

"I would suggest not trying that again, Miss Destine," he said, holding up what looked to be an innocent key fob remote. "The lovely new collar you're now wearing can be activated from up to a mile away, and I can assure you that I can press any one of these little buttons quite a bit faster than you could cover that distance… even without those chains." She gasped in response to another sharp pain, this time in her arm, and turned her head to the see the Asian woman withdraw the needle and back away, a satisfied smirk on her face. "What you've just experienced was merely an attention getter," Sevarius had continued as the injection began to take effect, "but if I so choose, there's also a button I can press on this little beauty that will literally stop you _dead_ in your tracks."

Everything after that point had dissolved into a semi-pleasant haze as the sodium pentathol kicked in, but the implied threat had lingered in her mind ever since. Sevarius had not even needed to bring voice to it again. The casual ease with which he had used his remote transmitter over the next several nights had proven beyond any doubt that he cared not a whit for her well-being. Several times while questioning her about Sector 13, he had punished her for answers he hadn't liked the tone of with sharp jolts of pain, or ended the conversation on a whim by thumbing another button to deliver a quick shock that rendered her unconscious. So it didn't take much imagination to suppose that he would likely not hesitate to do away with her permanently if she crossed him by making any further attempts to escape… or doing anything else he might view as a potential threat to his plans.

Still, she pondered, there had to be _something_ she could do besides sit around in the dark waiting for a solution to fall into her lap. Angela extended her legs out in front of her and curled her toes, stretching the muscles of her calves to stave off the cramp she felt coming on. Sighing, she stared once more at the fetters on her ankles, wishing there was something in the small arsenal of tricks Demona had taught her over the past year that would help her pick locks. If she could just get herself free of the collar and chains, she mused, that would at least be a start. Then she would have a fighting chance to make a break for it the next time Sevarius or his new partner stopped by to harass her. 

Angela was still deep in thought when something light and flimsy landed softly on her bared thighs. She looked up sharply, just in time to see the flicker of blue light as the force field was restored, and a growl rose deep within her throat as she spied the dark figure silhouetted in the dim light just beyond the bars. 

"Hello again, Angela." The eerily calm voice was identical to her own. "So sorry. I hope I'm not disturbing you."

Angela's eyes burned a faint red. She grabbed for the piece of fabric that had been tossed to her, snatching it up roughly in her talons as she scrambled to her feet with all the grace the chains and shackles would allow. "There's only one of us here who's disturbed, Jezebella," she replied darkly, taking a step closer to the bars, "and it's not me." 

"Ouch." Jezebella put her hand to her chest, feigning injury. "I see your tongue is still as sharp as ever, dear sister. You really haven't changed a bit."

Angela glared daggers at the clone. She wasn't in the mood to play this game any longer. "How would you even know? You're _not_ my twin, Jezebella, and you're _not_ my sister, either. You're a _clone_. Don't you get it? Sevarius grew you in a test tube, and whatever it is you think you know about me is only what he _programmed_ you to believe!"

The two gargoyles stared at each other for a long moment while Jezebella processed what she'd just heard. "No," she said at last, "I was wrong. You aren't the same as I remember you, sister. You're even more of a vindictive bitch than you were five years ago… and even worse of a liar." Jezebella moved closer to the captive gargoyle, staying mindful of the invisible force field that fronted the cell bars as she brought herself further into the light. "Luckily," she went on, "I survived your betrayal and now I can enjoy the place in the clan that your lies denied me."

Angela rolled her eyes and sighed, shaking her head sadly. "Fine. Believe what you want to believe." Her chains jingled lightly as she shrugged. "You'll learn the truth eventually. Just ask any of my clan. They'll tell you the same thing. Though you'd better watch your step. They're not going to like it when they find out you're an impostor."

Jezebella smiled maliciously. "Oh, don't worry about me, sister. I don't think that's going to happen any time soon. You see, I'm still recovering from the injuries I suffered during my abduction, so everyone back home is being quite kind to me." The double smoothed a lock of her dark tresses back from her temple, drawing Angela's attention to a familiar ornamental hair clip. "Especially my loving mate," she added coyly.

Angela couldn't help the growl that rose again in her throat. "Don't you even _dare_!" she intoned, her eyes flashing red.

Jezebella chuckled. "Oh come now, Angela. Let's not rehash _that_ all over again. It's not like you can do anything to stop me now anyway." She resettled her wings, enjoying the sudden wave of tension that radiated off the bound gargoyle. "You've been replaced, sister," she stated matter-of-factly. "I'm in and you're out, and you might as well get used to it." 

"You're insane," Angela said quietly. "No wonder you and Sevarius get along so well."

For the moment, the clone ignored the barb. "I'm not totally ungrateful, you know," she said, nodding her head toward the object Angela still held clenched in her talons. "I _did_ bring you a present."

Angela looked down at her hands, examining for the first time what the clone had tossed to her. It was a piece of partially completed needlepoint, she realized. Holding it up to the pale light that came from the force field emitters, she found she could make out words, as well. "'Our First Egg'," she read softly. Her stomach twisted into a knot as she flicked gaze back to the clone. "Where did you get this?" she demanded.

"Maza made it." Jezebella shrugged. "I thought you might like to have it as a memento in the event that your egg ends up taking a trip to the Sahara."

The knot in Angela's stomach tightened another twist more. "And just what do you mean by that?" she intoned menacingly.

"There's a gargoyle who arrived last week from the Egyptian Clan," the clone replied. "He says we have two of their eggs, and he wants yours in exchange." She paused, smiling smugly. "I was originally just going to agree with Broadway and tell him 'no', but now… well…" Jezebella ran her talons over the front of her tunic, smoothing the wrinkles from the coarse fabric. "…let's just say I'm giving the idea some serious thought."

Angela clamped her lips shut, unwilling to risk making another emotional outburst that would only encourage the deluded clone further. Instead, she wrestled her emotions down, keeping them at bay until Jezebella had turned and disappeared back into the darkness, leaving her alone once more. Quietly, Angela sank back to the floor, staring at the piece of needlework in her hands as she desperately tried to figure out what to do. In an instant, the stakes had changed. It wasn't just her life that was on the line now. Her unhatched egg's future was at risk as well.

Jezebella somehow had kept the clan fooled for over a week, as unbelievable as it seemed, and though the clone was sure to eventually do something to tip them off, Angela could no longer afford to sit back and wait for that to happen. Her egg could be shipped off to Egypt by then, with the impostor's blessings accepted as her own. Angrily, Angela wiped away a tear that had begun to roll down her cheek. Escape was a lost cause. If only she could get a message to the clan. Her mind spun frantically. Maybe she could somehow use her magic to do it. All the lessons she'd taken from Demona over the past three years had to be good for something, after all. But no… "I'd need something I can use as a focus… a conduit," she muttered dejectedly. It was the same problem that had forced her to abandoned the idea of using magic to escape the chains the first night of her captivity.

But now… Angela blinked, her eyes widening as she looked again at the scrap of fabric she held in her hand. Elisa's needlepoint. She must have held it for countless hours while she worked on it. If a trace of her scent still lingered… perhaps there was still a chance remaining yet. Angela mustered a hopeful smile. She had an idea. It was a patchwork one, still forming in her head and drawing from things she had studied independently as well as topics she had covered with Demona. She wasn't sure if it would even work, but it was an idea nonetheless, and she had nothing to lose by trying. 

Carefully, the gargoyle lay Elisa's handiwork flat upon the floor and smoothed the wrinkles from it before placing her palms upon it. Angela took a deep breath, then closed her eyes. "Here goes nothing, Elisa," she whispered.

* * * * *

Sevarius sat at his desk reviewing a printout of an intriguing memo he had found among the vast array of files Jezebella had copied off the hard drive of Dominique Destine's home computer. The ten-page confidential report, originating from the Nightstone Special Projects Division, detailed the progress to date on the development of what the biomedical engineers in Mme. Destine's employ had dubbed a "multi-channel bimodal neural interface." The end product of a three-year study that had been funded in part by a government grant, the device was intended to be a working prototype of a standardized, implantable control module, adaptable to future development of "smart" prosthetics and other such aids for the injured and the disabled.

"The crippled shall walk, the blind shall see, and the deaf shall hear," the geneticist quipped as he skipped to the end of the document and examined the schematics. "Really, Ms. Destine, I do believe you're starting to go soft. This clever little invention of yours could surely be used in other ways that would prove much more profitable." He chuckled softly. "For me, that is."

Sevarius smiled as he pondered the matter further. If he could incorporate into it the same principles of remote operation that had been used in designing the restraint collar Angela wore, the device Nightstone had developed to assist the handicapped could instead quite easily be adapted to assist _him_ in meeting his deadline. He glanced at his computer screen, eyeing the half dozen or so new e-mail messages that cluttered his inbox. Inquiries from his bidders, most likely, seeking reassurance that all was progressing apace for him to deliver a functional prototype unit by the promised date of August 31st. He didn't need to look at a calendar to know that the 31st was only a little more than a week away. He was fully aware of how far behind schedule he was thanks to all the setbacks that had happened along the way, including the Sector 13 fiasco of the previous month. 

The original plan had been simple enough. Clone a few of the halflings, make a few cybernetic enhancements, use Ling's methods to program them to be obedient little soldiers, and sell their services to the highest bidder. The first part had worked with Jezebella, he had reasoned, so why shouldn't it have worked with the halflings, as well? Yet three successive attempts to grow clones from the DNA samples collected from Candy and her pointy-eared friends had failed. The multiple identical trials had ruled out any possible error on his part. He could only suppose now that it was the Unseelie magic his previous employer had infused into the halflings' genetic makeup that had caused the clusters of cloned cells to wither and die before ever reaching the fetal stage.

That unexpected hiccup had eaten up two months, between the time invested in making the determination that cloning wasn't going to work and the additional time it had taken to prod enough information from Ling to formulate a new plan. If the mature halflings couldn't be cloned, the next best thing would be to recover the immature ones Xanatos and the gargoyles had seized from him and use them as his first batch of subjects. Until Ling had brought up Sector 13, though, he'd not had a clue as to where they'd been stashed away. Sevarius frowned thoughtfully. Getting them back for him would have been Jezebella's second mission at the Eyrie, had the first mission of reconnaissance not gone so disastrously awry.

He stood up, glancing across the room at the array of black-and-white monitors that showed the feeds from the various security cameras scattered about the facility, making note of the one that was focused on Angela's cell in the basement two stories below. The lights were off, but the camera was in nightvision mode and the image clearly showed the captive gargoyle. She was sitting quietly in the center of her cell, her back to the bars, just as she had been doing every night since he'd stopped interrogating her. Sevarius fingered the tiny remote in his pocket and smiled. Angela's spirit was still far from broken, but she was a fast learner when given the appropriate motivation. If the swap of Jezebella for her "twin" ended up being a permanent arrangement, he mused, he was certain that in time he would think up some other way to make good use of her.

Right now, though, he had a deadline to meet. He needed to arrange for the detailed specs and plans for that neural interface to be stolen from Nightstone, and he needed to secure a few "volunteers" from among the halflings currently in his employ. Ling's techniques were all well and good, but if he was going to be forced to use adult subjects and work on a highly accelerated timetable, he would need every extra bit of help he could get. Sevarius's gaze moved from the image of Angela in her cell to the feeds from the living quarters. Candy was lounging in the common area, and Jezebella was in the central hallway, just returning to her room. Perfect.

Sevarius started for the door. It was time to give his favorite interspecies team of cat burglars a new mission.

* * * * *

****

Castle Wyvern - Same Night 

"Are you feeling better?" Goliath put down his book and looked upon his mate with concern as she re-entered their chamber assisted by Fox.

The lady of the manor was still dressed casually in a black zippered sweat jacket and matching pants with lace up high tops. She had been on her way out of the castle when she'd come across Goliath and the protesting Elisa, forestalling her own evening plans for a workout at a hot new celebrity gym.

After all, she had reasoned to Goliath, the PIT raffle was weeks away, she could always smooth-talk a free membership later and it seemed like the most humane thing she could do for gargoyle-kind was help the big lavender specimen that lived under her roof with his current domestic drama. 

She assessed Elisa's critical level of agitation, taken into consideration the detective's personal prohibition against alcohol, and listened to Goliath's insistence that his lover was in need of medication, then taken them both in tow to her own, oversized bath, poured him a stiff drink and stared him down until he'd swallowed it all.

Having poured a refill, Fox then doused a tub with a strong extract of lavender and hops before filling it with warm water. Once Elisa was ensconced in its depths she sent him out of the room, glass in hand, promising to return Elisa when she'd calmed down. 

Elisa shook off Fox's arm as she sunk down onto the bed, tightening the belt of the fluffy white bathrobe that replaced the green lounging pajamas. She leaned against the headboard, found the towel that protected her hair from the bath intrusive, stripped it from her head and dropped it to the floor. "I'm fine," she replied archly as she affected a pose of utter ease. "It's amazing what a bath will do. I suddenly don't care at all that Captain Chavez is going to have me up on disciplinary charges and then fire me." 

"Ouch, sarcasm." Fox noted with a quirk of her lip as she picked up the damp towel. "You've got your hands full, Goliath. She's feisty tonight."

Goliath rolled his shoulders in a resigned shrug, declining to comment otherwise on Fox's observation. He handed Elisa her medication and scowled until she had washed the tablets down with water. "This was not an unanticipated turn of events, Elisa. We will deal with it."

"Sure," Fox said easily as she headed for the door, "you know you have a standing offer to work for David, or me, for that matter. Or you know," she added thoughtfully, "if you're feeling entrepreneurial, you could always freelance. Doesn't a shady reputation with the cops buy you cachet in that line of work?"

"Only if we've time-warped back to the 1950s," Elisa replied, refusing to be cheered. "All I ever wanted to be was a New York City cop." She sighed. "Oh well. Dad will understand."

Fox gave Goliath one more sympathetic glance. "I'll keep an eye on her tomorrow," she mouthed. The gargoyle nodded his thanks and his benefactress disappeared, closing the heavy oak door behind her. 

Goliath rose and crossed from the chair where he'd previously been sitting to join Elisa on the bed. En route, he picked up Elisa's hairbrush from the dressing table and after a bit of coaxing persuaded his lover to sit up so that he could brush her hair. 

He examined the gash on the back of her head. Free of the bandage, the wound was knitting well. He worked carefully, rubbing the uninjured portion of Elisa's scalp gently with the tips of his talons, then brushing her hair until it gleamed and finally arranging the long tresses to cover the injury. "There, that's better," the gargoyle rumbled as he set the brush on the bedside table. 

Elisa's eyes had closed under his ministrations and some of the tension had finally left her body. "Time for sleep, my love." Careful not to break the mood, Goliath helped his lover out of the robe and under the blankets. He divested himself of his loincloth and slipped in beside her, the better to continue the talon massage. By the time he reached the base of Elisa's spine, she'd drifted off to sleep.

* * * * *

****

New Jersey

It was hours from dawn and yet Angela sat on the floor of her cell, still as stone already. Her eyes were closed. There was no rattle of chains or shackles. She sat soundless, barely taking breath as she concentrated on the embroidery carefully balanced between her talons. It was an experiment born of desperation, yet it seemed her only option. She held the embroidery, trying to connect with the faint essence of Elisa. But it was difficult. Others had handled the cloth and their energies competed for Angela's attention. 

She ignored them. Ignored the bright red of Jezebella and the incandescent green signature of the halfling. She cleared her mind of hate, of anger and fear, and focused on love. Love, subtle and pink. It suffused the handiwork, coloring the normal royal purplish aura of Elisa until it was light and mauve colored. 

Angela freed her own essence using magic older than history, techniques passed down from wise woman to mystic to shaman to high priest. She imagined herself unshackled and unburdened, traveling easily along the astral plane, using the faint mauve energy streams as a beacon.

She followed them home. 

Elisa's aura was still royal purple at its core but she was troubled, Angela sensed it at once. Uncertainty lay heavy over the human woman like a blanket, but the inexperienced sorceress could not discern the source. Could the clone have already done something to set off Elisa's highly trained instincts? 

That was wishful thinking, Angela chided herself, and she had no time for that sort of distraction. No time at all. Her egg was in jeopardy. She must warn Elisa there was an interloper in their midst.

"But how?" she queried the Universe.

Keep it simple. 

The directive came from everywhere. And nowhere. 

Angela complied. She visualized herself in chains. The egg in the rookery. She tried to project a sense of urgency. Time was running out. 

She sat unaware of the cold concrete floor, of the dark, of the passage of time. She ignored the collar at neck and the chains that bound her. She projected her message and hoped that Elisa would receive it and understand.

* * * * *

****

Castle Wyvern

"Angela?" Elisa mumbled from the depths of her dream. Dream-Elisa looked down at the enormous key ring attached to her jailer's belt. _Jailer's belt?_ She tore her glance from Angela, behind bars, held in chains, a heavy collar at her throat, and looked at herself. She was in uniform. Not her dress blues. Not a patrolman's street gear. Chino and khaki with a baton on her hip. She was a prison guard and Angela was in her charge.

The gargoyle was held in a cage all by herself. The cage drifted in space under a distorted, egg shaped moon. No other prisoners. No other guards. No one but Angela, who pleaded for her attention and begged to be freed. 

It was a mistake. Elisa knew it with certainty. Angela was innocent. Imprisoned unfairly. She looked to the right, then to the left, still no other guards. No other people. No walls. No floors, just a sense of desperation. She listened hard. The faint ticking of clock grew louder and more incessant. 

Elisa fumbled with the keys trying to fit the proper one to the enormous lock on the cell door. None would fit. For every key discarded another one took its place and the numbers refused to diminish. 

Keys. Keys everywhere. Space was filling with keys. Angela cried out as she was pressed against the walls of her cell. Elisa became more desperate, shoving key after key into the lock, twisting the ones that seemed to fit and then throwing them away in desperation as Angela's struggles became more pathetic. It wasn't working. She flung the giant key ring away and threw herself at the bars. 

Angela stretched out a shackled hand. "Help me!" 

"I'm trying!" Elisa cried as she battered cold iron. "Can't you see?"

"Not enough," Angela said sadly. "Too late." The clock began to sound. Deep reverberating gongs shook Elisa to the marrow.

"No!"

Angela shattered in a thousand pieces under the weight of the keys.

* * *

A moan tore from Elisa's throat as she broke free of the dream. She reached out automatically in the dark room for Goliath.

He was gone. 

Cagney, returned at last from his nocturnal stroll about the castle, had settled on the pillow in his place. He merowed in confusion as Elisa pulled him from his own, far more pleasant musings. He scented his mistress's distress and allowed her to hug him close.

Elisa stroked his soft gray fur and wondered just what on earth had sparked such a horrid dream.

* * * * *

****

5:28 a.m. 

Owen Burnett rose from his bed and shed his sensible blue striped pajamas. He tended to his morning ablutions as efficiently as he did every other aspect of his day and at quarter to six he gave one final critical glance in the mirror before quitting his immaculate chamber and heading for the butler's pantry to start coffee for Mr. and Mrs. Xanatos both of whom had early meetings scheduled on their respective calendars.

He found a not unexpected visitor waiting for him. "Cutting it a little close, aren't you, Brooklyn? Dawn is in -" Owen checked his watch. "- twenty-five minutes. Shouldn't you be reporting to Goliath about your evening's observations?"

The gargoyle's face crinkled into a scowl. "What do you know about -" and then he let it drop. He shrugged. No one would ever keep anything from Owen Burnett. "So you know about my project."

Owen seemed unperturbed as he spooned beans into the coffee grinder. "Of course. Who do you suppose put the chair in what should have otherwise been nothing more than a routing station? I knew you might find it expedient to keep an eye on this particular guest."

The gargoyle leaned against the granite counter top and folded his arms across his breastplate. "So you think he's up to something too?"

The conversation was suspended for several seconds as the grinder motor was engaged. Only after the dark, fragrant grounds had been transferred into a gold filter and placed over the coffee pot did the majordomo reply. "I cannot say."

Cannot or would not? Oh well, Brooklyn had a self-imposed code, why would the human disguised fay be any different? "Okay, can you answer this for me at least? Does the name 'Van Winkle' ring any bells for you?"

Owen wiped his hands and adjusted his glasses. "Only as a literary reference. 18th century American author Washington Irving publicized the tale of a man, Rip Van Winkle, who went into the Catskill Mountains. The gist of his story was he'd wandered into the company of several strange small men, drunk of their liquor and fell asleep only to wake up twenty years later to find his world completely changed."

"But it wasn't just a story, was it," Brooklyn posited. "There actually was a guy named Van Winkle."

Owen continued his preparation of the morning tray.

"And these guys, he ran into," Brooklyn continued, conscious of the waning night, "not human, fay. Unseelie?"

At that, Owen pursed his lips. "Possible. Although I have no personal knowledge." Which was true enough, he'd been gadding about Europe at the time. Although years later he'd heard gossip that a band of dark elves had taken credit for Van Winkle's disappearance. He picked up the coffee service. "Now if you'll excuse me."

"Sure. Thanks." Brooklyn watched as Owen Burnett, picture of dignity and decorum, proceeded him out of the chamber before bolting, with no dignity whatsoever, toward the nearest window large enough for him to push his bulk through. Moments later and with no time to spare, he greeted the dawn, his stone encased brain buzzing with unanswered questions.

* * * * *

****

Later That Day

There was a knock at the door and Elisa looked up from the book she'd been attempting to read. It was one of Goliath's. Having worked his way through most of the European classics he'd begun to catch up on American literature. Poe should have suited her gloomy mood, but a poor night's sleep and the impending fallout from her impromptu meeting with Captain Chavez overly distracted her. Elisa set the book aside on the nightstand as Fox entered bearing a mahogany bed tray. 

"Oh good, you're up. I checked before I left but you were dead to the world." 

Elisa eyed the redhead curiously. Fox was impeccably tailored in a smart business suit and heels, however strands of hair escaped her severe coiffure suggesting she'd already been out and busy for several hours. 

"I lunched at Aqua. I had Marcel make up a little something for you."

"Lunched? What time is it, anyway?" Elisa picked up the ornate little clock that sat on the night table and squinted at it. "One? No. It can't be." She looked to Fox, who glanced at the elegant platinum and diamond watch on her wrist and nodded, confirming the time. "What was in that tub last night?" Elisa said as she pushed back the covers, got out of bed, and fumbled in the dresser for a pair of jeans.

"Just some bath tea from La Spa Natural. Why?"

"Because I think I should turn over a sample to Narcotics. I had some seriously weird dreams last night."

"Really?" Fox shrugged. "I've used that tea dozens of times and I've never noticed anything unusual. What happened?" 

Elisa finished buttoning her fly and passed a slim hand over her eyes, pushing ebony hair away from her face. "I'm not sure. I slept okay for a while. Then there was something about Angela… and a clock. Then James Cagney telling me I had it all wrong. Except it wasn't him."

"Then who was it?"

"Cagney," Elisa pointed towards the cat basking in the sunlight. He perked up an ear at the mention of his name and rolled over. "Tap dancing. And it just kept getting weirder from there." Elisa was quiet as she exchanged the nightshirt she'd slipped into sometime after Goliath's departure for a bra and tee shirt. "I mean, I can understand the parts about Captain Chavez and the executioner. That's just obvious. But why was the headsman's basket full of eggs? And why were all those clones of Angela being cranked out of an Easy Bake Oven?"

Fox shrugged helplessly. "Sorry. I never was good with dream imagery. But I know this woman who keeps offices in the Trotter Building. She comes very highly recommended."

"I don't need a shrink. At least I don't think I do." Elisa picked up her pills off the nightstand. "Everything is just catching up with me. The drugs. The stress. The case I'm not working on. Speaking of which - has Matt called?"

"Last night. He said he'd try and stop by before his shift but he couldn't promise."

Elisa frowned. "I wonder if the Captain told him?" She paced a few steps. "Of course she did. I wonder what he said." She took a few more steps, marshaling her thoughts. Unfortunately, most of the better ones had taken holiday. "What am I going to do?"

Fox lay her hand on the shoulder of her distraught houseguest. She frowned a little at the heat of Elisa's skin. The detective seemed nearly fevered. But when she met Elisa's eyes she gave her a confident grin. "We went through this last night. You've got other career options, Bluestone too, if he needs them. If the department insists on making trouble, you've got the finest lawyers in New York at your disposal and I'm sure P.I.T. would be more than willing to champion an anti-discrimination suit on your behalf." 

Elisa met Fox's confidence with a gallows' quirk of her lips. "Does saying something really make it so in your world?"

Fox shrugged casually. "More often than not. It's amazing how having the right resources at your disposal can smooth things over, Elisa."

"Resources… right." Elisa frowned, her thoughts chasing elsewhere. What was it about that word that spun her back to the knotted mess of Angela's kidnappers?

"Elisa?" Fox gave the detective a critical look. The other woman's dark brown eyes were bright and seemed to shine with odd intensity. She raised her hand and held the back of it against the detective's forehead.

Elisa batted it away. "I'm fine. Just… thinking." She shook her head in disgust. "No, it's gone." She cupped her face in her hands, pressing palms against the hollows of her eye sockets. "I need to be at work. I need to find Angela's kidnappers. I need to figure out who took all that equipment. Don't you see? It's all tied together."

"You need to rest," Fox urged. But she could understand the detective's agitation. No woman of action liked to be sidelined during a crisis. "I'll track down your partner and makes sure he stops by." The casual promise seemed to help. Elisa immediately seemed buoyed by the news. "But only if you'll agree to let the doctor check you over. You seem kind of peaked and I doubt you want to relapse when you're hot on the trail."

"Fine." Elisa could put up with a little more poking and prodding if it were for a good cause. She swept a careless arm around the room and sunk back onto the bed. "You know where I'll be."

* * * * *

****

Mid-afternoon - New York Biohazard Collection Service

Matt flashed his badge at the receptionist and she gave it an indifferent glance. "What'd you wan?" she mumbled between smacks and pops of fruity smelling bubble gum.

"Your boss. Some time this decade," he replied letting ice creep into his voice. It had taken several minutes of throat clearing and pointed 'excuse me's' to get the girl to take the earphones off her geometrically coifed head and notice he was standing there flashing his badge.

"What for?"

"Because I haven't got anything better to do," Matt snarled. Maybe it wasn't the right way to start an interview. Maybe he'd get more cooperation from the teenage receptionist if he complimented her on her taste in the rap blaring through the headphones, or told her that he thought her sequined platform shoes were fly, but he wasn't in the mood. Too much paperwork, too little sleep and too much worry about how he was going to tell Elisa that the hammer was on its way down were affecting his professional demeanor.

"Whateveah." The girl flounced off in a huff, disappearing behind an unmarked door.

Enough time passed that Matt figured she'd blown him off and gone to lunch. He was about to lift the hinged section of the worn Formica counter top and walk through when a man in his late twenties or early thirties with coffee colored skin and a skinny face came out of the office marked 'Private'. "You a cop?"

Matt nodded and flashed his badge again. The guy snagged it from his hand and squinted at the shield. "Say's here on your identification that you Detective Matthew Bluestone from the 23rd precinct. What you doing up here?"

Here was Harlem. And Matt was there because the Harlem detectives were up to their eyeballs with their own cases and didn't have time to do anybody any favors. The guy was regarding Matt warily. "Talking to you." He got a grip on his attitude and tried to start fresh. "Was that your daughter manning the desk earlier?"

The guy, who'd yet to introduce himself, but was, according to Matt's research, Evander T (no middle name) Jackson, rolled his eyes as he dropped the badge case on the counter in front of Matt. "Thank Jesus, no. That's my sister's kid Tanisha. Dumb as a box a rocks. But you know

how it is - family. Maybe she won't flunk outta school if she gets work experience."

Matt tried to look sympathetic as he pocketed his identification, and actually felt it a little. The girl had grated on him after five minutes. Three months would be torture. "You're a stand up guy, Mr. Jackson." Matt paused. Then queried. "You are Mr. Jackson?" The man nodded. And Matt continued. "Listen, I won't take up much of your time, but we're conducting an investigation into the break-ins at several biomedical facilities that your company services."

"Yeah?" Jackson made no effort to open the counter or offer any other way for Matt to come back into his office for a more private consultation.

"That's right. I'm going to need your employee records for the last several months. Those that pertain to the case."

Jackson looked doubtful. "I dunno. Seem to me like you need a subpoena or somethin' like that. Maybe I should call me a lawyer."

"That's within your rights, sir," Matt replied hanging doggedly onto polite. "But not really necessary. It's a routine check."

"Uh huh. Sure." Jackson pulled a pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his shirt and lit up despite the prominently displayed 'This is a no smoking area' sign mounted on the wall. "I know how this works. First they pull the time cards and the next thing you know they want ten years a tax papers. And then our customers are canceling contracts 'cause they be nervous." He dropped ash on the floor and ground it into the linoleum. "Forget it. You want 'm, you get you a judge." Without another word he walked back into his office and left Matt staring after him, wondering if it was just indifference to authority or something else that fueled Jackson's animosity.

* * *

Matt beelined for Captain Chavez's office. He was excited. Buzzing even. During the long ride back from Harlem he'd let his mind drift considering all the possibilities. The pieces fit. It worked. NYBCS was the loose thread he'd been searching for. He could feel it. He knocked and at the Captain's upraised head and curt signal he entered her office. 

"What is it, Bluestone?" Chavez said as she racked the telephone. 

"Just back from Harlem, Cap. Something smells about New York Biohazard Collection Service and it's not the stuff they're picking up. That guy, Jackson, went defensive the minute I walked in the door."

"And it wasn't a reaction to your winning personality?" Chavez said even as she reached for a notepad. 

Matt scowled but clamped his teeth over the any retort. Chavez was still angry and in a position to make his life a nightmare if she so chose. "No, ma'am. I asked him if we could review his files and he suggested the best course of action would be to get a subpoena."

"Interesting." Chavez made a note on a pad. "All right. Based on your preliminary interview report I'll call Judge Fernandez and get her to authorize. You stand by. I want to move on this as soon as we have the paperwork."

"Yes ma'am. Is that all?" He edged toward the door, and had one hand on the knob when the captain shook her head. 

"Not quite. Sit down, Bluestone." 

Matt sat erect in the visitor's chair. Chavez stood and stared out through the slats of the venetian blinds for several long beats before speaking. "You know your partner is probably going to lose her job when her relationship with Goliath goes public. And that she'll probably face disciplinary charges."

Matt sighed and brushed one palm against his temple then dropped the hand to his lap. "Yes, ma'am. You said as much earlier."

Chavez continued to contemplate something outside of Matt's view. "I'm going to lose a good detective. I'd rather not make it two." Her hand dropped away from the blind and she turned to face Bluestone. "Give me something I can use to keep you in the clear."

He gave the captain a sharp look. "Like what? I was being coerced to keep quiet? Blackmailed by the gargoyles?" His voice rose with growing agitation. "No one will believe me." Bluestone shook his head. "Sorry, Elisa and I are a team. If she goes down then I go with her. Someone has to take a stand." Matt stood up. "If you won't then maybe it will have to be me." He exited the office without waiting to be dismissed and stalked out of the bullpen. 

He was a block from the precinct when a familiar voice called out his name. "Yo, Bluestone!" 

His head swiveled sharply at towards the sound of the call. Special Agent Hugh Fraser was hurrying to catch up. The older agent sprinted the last several yards. When he finally stopped next to Matt he gave a friendly grin and straightened his suit jacket. "Man, you must have really been someplace else. I've been trying to get your attention since you left the station!"

"Yeah. Sorry about that," Matt said without any real emotion. "Something I can do for you, Fraser?" 

"Nah, more like something I can do for you. I noticed you seemed kind of off balance at the bull session the other afternoon." 

Matt shrugged. "Probably because I was. In case you haven't heard my partner just got out of the hospital. What's it to you?"

Fraser held up his hands. "Easy there, detective. I only mentioned it because I'm used to working in tandem myself. Joe Ross, guy I've worked with for years, just retired. And now I'm feeling at loose ends. I know it's irregular, but since were working the same case, I thought we might buddy up for the duration."

"Why?" Bluestone eyed the special agent warily. 

Fraser shrugged. "Why not?" Matt shifted uncomfortably under the other man's frank gaze. "I'm used to a partner, you're used to a partner. Think about it. I'll drop by the station later and we can talk. Unless there's something you want to get off your chest now? You seem kind of stressed for such a young guy. Anything I can do to help?"

"I'm fine." Matt came to a decision. It seemed like the only way he was going to get rid of the Fed was by playing nice. "Sure, come on by. We can talk shop. Right now I've got someplace else I need to be." A cab came rolling down the street and Matt flung up his arm waving the taxi curbside. He got in without another word to Fraser.

Fraser stuck a hand in his pants pocket and rubbed at his good luck charm as the cab pulled away, then he smiled and checked his watch. One meeting down and one to go. He hailed a cab of his own and set off for Central Park.

* * * * *

****

Castle Wyvern

Elisa sat at Goliath's feet enjoying the warmth of the afternoon while avoiding the direct fury of the sun. It was turning into an eventful day. Shortly after Fox had left there had been another knock on her door. Owen ushered in the same female doctor who had treated her the night of the fire. This time she managed to catch her name.

Doctor Danvers had flashed a light in her eyes, taken her pulse and blood pressure readings and asked a series of basic knowledge questions that allowed Elisa to prove that she knew the year, her name and that of the president. She had taken a few notes, asked Elisa if she felt, saw or smelled anything unusual, written a few more things down and admitted that the detective was well on her way to recovery if she would only rest for a few more days.

And resting did mean she could get out of bed as long as she didn't overdo. So it was on Dr. Danvers approval that she allowed Owen to escort her outside into the courtyard and bring her iced tea and sunglasses so as not to aggravate her diminishing headache. She felt kind of guilty, indulging herself at Owen's expense, but Fox had given her the run of the castle and the use of all its personnel including the majordomo, and she wanted to be here among her clanmates while she contemplated her future.

She was dozing, soaking up the tranquillity that came from reposing so far above the bustle of the city when she heard the soft sound of leather soles crossing the flagstones. She waited until he was within speaking range before calling, "Matt. Hey, thanks for coming."

"Elisa," he didn't know what else to say, just stood there awkwardly. How do you open a conversation about the death of someone's life-long passion, especially when you've been offered a way out of the executioner's line of fire. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," she said dismissively as she stuck out her hand. Matt offered his arm and she pulled herself to her feet. She started to let go but was forced to hang on for a moment longer as her vision momentarily blacked out. "I'm fine," she said off his questioning gaze. "I've had a pretty good run, all things considered. But I've got one more case to solve before they shove me out the door."

Knowing his partner's single-minded tenacity, Matt suggested, "The break-ins?"

"The break-ins and the kidnapping," Elisa corrected. "I want to solve them both."

Matt indicated one of the low stone benches that stood in the shade of the wall as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped at his forehead. The partners sat and Matt asked, "But how? Goliath's not going to let you leave the castle. And the Captain's not going to put you back on active duty. Not now."

Elisa gave him a sidelong look. Her voice was sharp with frustration. "Just because I'm sidelined with a cracked skull doesn't mean my brain is broken. I can still think. Matt, keep me in the loop. Tell me what you've been up to. And maybe I can help. Please."

Matt felt a sense of déjà vu. They'd had this conversation already after Elisa had been released from the hospital. He'd promised then to keep her abreast of developments mostly because it seemed like the only way to keep her quiet enough to recuperate. Plenty had happened since then to them both and an update, he decided, couldn't hurt. "All right. As it happens, I think I'm finally on to something."

Elisa listened carefully as Matt filed her in about the strange interview at New York Biohazard Collection Service. "You're right," she agreed, "something's off there." A frown creased her forehead as she contemplated Matt's findings. "But I don't know. It could explain the thefts, but what about the clone?" She gave him a frustrated look. "We've been skirting that as part of the official investigation for obvious reasons. But I think if we're really going to get to the bottom of this, we need to start looking at the bigger picture."

Matt sighed. "You're right. So let's look at the suspects. How many people out there are capable of this kind of technology? I know from my reading of maybe fifteen or twenty laboratories that are pursuing cloning aggressively both here and abroad. But except for that one guy in Italy, no one is admitting to cloning higher life forms, they're all sticking to farm animals and tissue samples."

Elisa shook her head. "This isn't the work of some nine-to-five researcher, Matt. I know who's behind this, Anton Sevarius. It has to be. No one else would do something so twisted."

"Funny you should mention Sevarius," Matt replied. "From what you've told me, this does fit his M.O. But this can't be his work. He's dead."

Elisa shoved her sunglasses up on her head and stared at him. "How do you know that?" Her tone was incredulous.

A guilty look overtook Matt's face. He avoided Elisa's eyes as he explained. "Xanatos just told me. Literally. Mr. Burnett escorted me to his office downstairs as soon as I arrived and he gave me the news."

"So how does he know?" Elisa asked sharply. Her eyes were dark with suspicion about this inconvenient turn of events.

Matt took a breath. "Mr. X. had reason to believe that Sevarius has been in Illuminati custody. He's been negotiating with them for the last two years, trying to borrow him to cure the Sector 13 halflings. When Danny said he was loose, he made inquiries to find out what was going on. They were forced to tell him what really happened in Antwerp."

"Antwerp?" Elisa said, mystified. "Antwerp, Belgium? What does Antwerp have to do with anything?"

Matt gave his brow one more pass before shoving the handkerchief back in his jacket pocket. "Apparently Sevarius had set up shop there after his escape from the raid on his New York operation. The Illuminati found out about it." A bitter note crept into the detective's voice and he stared straight ahead as he recalled events of years' past. "Partially because of me."

Elisa frowned at her partner. "What do you mean, Matt? Don't tell me you've been working with those creeps. Not after all that's happened."

He continued to focus his gaze somewhere out on the skyline. His voice was flat as he responded. "They called in a favor. I had no choice. They wanted information and I supplied it. I worked as an inside police source feeding information from Interpol, the hot sheets, whatever seemed like it might trace back to Sevarius." The detective shrugged. A year after the war ended there was a police raid and fire at a research lab in Antwerp. Shortly thereafter I was told -" His voice grew slightly officious as if quoting someone else. "- I no longer need concern myself with information related to Anton Sevarius."

Elisa put a frustrated hand to her temple. "I'm not following you."

"They told me to drop it, so I did. I assumed they'd taken him into custody and thrown away the key. Xanatos had been told as much when he went to the Society asking for their help tracking Sevarius down. When Danny sprung the news that someone matching his description was running around loose, Mr. X. pulled me aside. I told him what I knew. I was breaking confidence, something that probably won't win me any points, but it seemed important at the time."

A light went on for Elisa as she put things together. "So Xanatos got nosy. Probably made some kind of a threat. Is that when they told him Sevarius was dead?"

"Yeah." Matt was stiff, hunched in on himself. "They pulled a body from the wreckage. It wasn't identified as such but Sevarius was killed. It was confirmed by the Illuminati and they don't make mistakes. There's no way he could be behind the biotech thefts or the clone of Angela."

Elisa frowned, disappointed and more than a little angry for being kept out of the loop. "Why wasn't I told any of this?"

"There didn't seem to be any point." Matt met her eyes at last.. "I'm sorry. It wasn't my decision."

Elisa digested the news in silence. After several minutes she said, "So we're back to square one. Tell me, Matt, if it's not confidential, did Sevarius have a protégé who got away?"

"None that we know of." Why did he feel like such a traitor? Damn Xanatos and all the Illuminati anyway. "I'm sorry, Elisa. It was a good thought, but if you're right, and there is a rouge geneticist running loose, he's a new player."

Elisa stood, ignoring the wave of dizziness. She was pleased to find she only wobbled a little. "Fine. So how do we explain Angela's clone? I mean really explain her. Because that wasn't a robot I fought at the bus depot."

Matt shrugged helplessly. "Maybe she was Sevarius's handiwork. A leftover that was overlooked. Or maybe Thailog created her. You said he had the technical bend before he was killed. Maybe she was meant to be his mate."

The thought made Elisa shiver. She paced a bit, thinking, taking the puzzle apart in her mind and trying to make the facts fit. "You know, I could see that. Thailog was just sick enough to create a duplicate of Angela and twist her. But why didn't he spring this on us earlier?"

"Maybe he never had the chance." Matt brushed his palm against his temple. He noticed absently he needed a haircut. "It doesn't matter, Elisa, if it won't help us break this case. I'm going with the best lead I've got. Goliath and the others can look for the clone. If you find her maybe you can get some information out of her. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

Matt checked his watch. "I've got to go. I'm due to meet up with our Feeb liaison and then go serve this warrant. Are you gonna be okay? About the Captain finding out, I mean."

Another dismissive shrug. "Sure, maybe this is for the best. You know, one door closes, another one opens."

__

Sure, partner. Say it enough times and maybe you'll really believe it. "I'll call you later."

"Thanks, Matt." Elisa let the bravado slip, just a little. "I really do want to see this one through."

Matt nodded. He took a few steps towards the castle and turned back towards Elisa. She was standing next to Goliath, one hand against his massive forearm. Her eyes were closed and she seemed drained even though there was a determined cast to her features. Elisa might have been willing to walk away from her career, but an open case, one that impacted her clan, well that was a different story. Matt supposed that applied to him as well. He had already promised the captain that if Elisa went down he would too. They might as well go out leaving the department with egg on their faces.

* * * * *

****

Castle Wyvern - Mid-afternoon

Fox made a last notation in her appointment book and stifled a yawn. It had been a long morning, but a two-hour board meeting at Cyberbiotics, a telephone conference in the car with the P.I.T. charity drive committee, and a long lunch with the grateful publisher whose magazine would soon be the first feature an exclusive interview with a gargoyle now lay behind her. Fox quirked a smile, thankful that at last she'd been able to do something to smooth things over with the man whose modeling studio had been inadvertently ruined during her and The Pack's first encounter with the gargoyles. Though a women's fashion magazine wouldn't have been her first choice for introducing Angela to the nation, every little bit of positive publicity helped the cause. Besides, it was also important to show the public that gargoyles were people too. After having listened in on the interview, Fox was certain the article that Maya would write for _Blush_ would do a much better job of showcasing Angela as the down-to-earth young woman that she was than anything that _Time_ or _Newsweek_ might print if given the same opportunity.

Fox felt another yawn coming on, and this time she was unable to contain it. Shaking her head, she clicked her pen shut and closed the leather bound book. As busy as her morning had been, an equally hectic evening lay ahead, and she needed to catch her midday nap if she was to conquer the remaining half of her "to do" list. She turned to the bedside stand, checking the time on the polished brass clock as she lay her appointment book beside the thin, colorful volume that Alexander had persuaded her to read with him before Owen took him to his room for his own afternoon nap. The redheaded woman chuckled, recalling her son's comment upon reaching the page with the illustration of the fox in the box. "That doesn't look like you, mama!" he had said, then smiled at his own joke as she tousled his hair affectionately.

Two readings of Dr. Suess had eaten up a good half-hour of her nap time, she realized idly as she set the alarm for three-thirty, but it had been time spent with her son, and that alone made it worth the price. Fox readjusted the pillows behind her and scooted herself into a reclining position, drawing the sheets up around herself before reaching over and clicking off the light. With a placid smile still upon her face, Fox Xanatos drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"Would you eat them in a box? Would you eat them with a fox?"

Dream-Fox opened her eyes and turned toward the oddly familiar echoing voice, swaying unsteadily as the floor wobbled beneath her. She stood inside a wooden crate with an open top that bobbed on a foggy, endless sea. She was barefoot, clad only in a simple flowing gown of pale blue satin, her hair fluttering loosely on the breeze. Fox gripped the side of the container as another wave rocked it. "Is anyone out there?" she called.

A silhouetted figure appeared in the mist, and slowly a small boat came into view. A dark-haired woman stood at the helm, holding the pole which guided the craft. She wore a brown trenchcoat over slacks and button-down shirt, looking for all the world like she had stepped out of a 1930's detective movie save for the absurdly tall red and white stovepipe hat perched upon her head. "Elisa?" Fox questioned as recognition dawned.

"I am Sam, I am, I am," Elisa answered. "Would you, could you, in a boat?" The woman gestured with an outstretched arm to the contents of her skiff. A mounded nest of straw, and three large eggs, pale green and marked with darker green splotches.

The wind was growing stronger. Fox shook her head in non-comprehension as bolts of lightning streaked across the sky in the distance. "Elisa? Elisa, what are you talking about?" The storm was rising fast and the crate began pitching violently up and down on the growing waves. She had to raise her voice to continue to be heard over the lapping water. "Pull me in, please!" She grimaced as her stomach momentarily leapt up into her throat, then let go of the edge to reach a hand out towards the other woman, motioning for her to come closer.

Elisa nodded and set her pole back to the water, but the next wave caught them both off guard. Fox gasped as she was hurled forward, and grabbed frantically for the skiff's figurehead as she tumbled into the icy water. Her head went under, but she resurfaced a second later, shivering and coughing up salt water as she dug her fingernails into the wood. "Elisa, help me!" Thunder boomed and rain started to pour down as Fox struggled to pull her head above the crashing waves. She looked up just in time to see one of the eggs, jostled from its place in the hay by the lurching of the skiff, rolling slowly towards the edge. 

Fox and Elisa looked at each other, then back at the egg, watching in horror as it slip silently into the roiling sea.

* * *

"Fox?" David placed a hand on his wife's shoulder and shook her gently. "Fox, wake up." He showed no surprise when the slumbering woman grabbed his arm, gasping and mumbling incoherently as she clawed her way back to consciousness. Fox sat up in bed, blinking rapidly as she sucked in breath and remembered where she was. A moment ago, she'd been with Angela and Elisa… but doing what? The dream images fled from her even as she fought to capture them, scattering like dry leaves on a stiff autumn breeze and leaving hollow feeling of déjà vu in their wake.

"Are you okay, Fox?" She looked up at her husband, noting the concern etched on his face. "You looked like you were having a bad dream."

"I was?" She wasn't really sure. She ran a hand through her long auburn tresses and was startled to find her brow damp with sweat. She glanced at the clock. Only little over an hour had passed, though she felt as though she'd been asleep for much, much longer. A fleeting image of Elisa wearing a Dr. Suess hat while juggling gargoyle eggs gave way to one of herself, bound and helpless as Angela kissed her. Fox's hand slipped down to her neck, her fingers rubbing at the spot just below the nape as the ghostly sensation of wearing a stiff leather collar came and just as quickly faded.

"It sure seemed like it," David replied. "You don't usually talk in your sleep."

Fox kicked her feet free from the covers and accepted her husband's proffered hand as she rose from the bed. "Oh?" she asked. "Did I say anything interesting?"

"I think I heard Angela's name mentioned, but I'd only just come in." David shrugged. "You two _have_ been spending a lot of time together. I imagine keeping up with her schedule as well as your own can get pretty stressful at times."

Fox nodded quietly in agreement. She had been dreaming about Angela, all right, of that much she was sure, but something told her instinctively that the exact details, though she couldn't remember them, had been far from innocent. There was just something too familiar about the dream. Or rather, not the dream itself, but the feel. Something mystical, no, magical. If she closed her eyes and concentrated the way Owen had taught her, she could just grasp the faint tendrils of a residual something. 

Fox's stomach twinged uneasily. She wondered if she was the only one dreaming, or if the others were affected again as well. Mentally, she added a chat with Elisa and Angela to her list of things to do.

* * * * *

****

NYBCS

"I appreciate the company, but it's just a subpoena," Matt said to his companion, Special Agent Hugh Fraser. The pair mounted the concrete steps in front of New York Biohazard Collection Services, leading a cadre of uniform cops, some carrying empty cardboard file boxes.

Fraser pushed open the door. He was a middle aged man with a thick shock of black hair just beginning to gray at the temples. He was dressed, as all federal agents seemed to prefer, in a dark charcoal gray suit and white shirt, whose severity he managed to subtly subvert by donning a geometrically patterned necktie, which, if one chose to look closely, was actually composed of cartoon frogs.

The air conditioning was set on "High" against the sweltering August day and the thermal shock was considerable as they stepped inside. At the front desk Tanisha was missing, replaced by a somewhat more matronly appearing figure with graying hair wearing a pink floral dress. She looked up from an accounting ledger. "Yes, may I help you?"

Bluestone stepped forward and pulled a sheath of pale blue papers from his pocket. "Subpoena, ma'am. We need to go through your records."

The dark woman stood and crossed around the desk to examine the papers. She accepted them from Matt with a curt 'thank you' and read quickly. "I see. I'll have to inform Mr. Jackson. Can you wait just a minute, please?"

Matt nodded, the uniforms pushed behind him, fanning out as best they could, and Fraser leaned against the counter. They all watched as the woman spoke briefly into an intercom system.

A moment later a man in a dark lightweight suit came out of the private office. Matt frowned. There was a striking family resemblance but this wasn't the same man he'd spoken to a day earlier. "Are you Evander Jackson?"

The man nodded and Matt introduced himself handing over his badge for inspection. This Jackson was several years older but he had the same skinny face and high cheekbones. His upper lip was adorned with a neatly trimmed mustache and his suit was of a more expensive cut than the previous Mr. Jackson's had been. "Evander T Jackson. What is this all about?" He took the subpoena from his assistant and read quickly she had.

"Do you have a brother, Mr. Jackson? One who works here in this facility?" Matt inquired.

Jackson looked up from the subpoena. "I have five brothers. All named Evander. My mother liked the name. And yes, my youngest brother Evander J works with me. Why?"

"I informed him about the need to inspect your records pursuant to a criminal investigation we're conducting into thefts at biomedical research facilities serviced by your company. He suggested we needed the subpoena."

Jackson's face clouded. He moved away from the counter and gestured to a side door also marked 'private'. "Go through there and follow the hallway to take you back here." He turned to the woman. "Mrs. Randall, get Jay in here now. He's out on the dock checking in trucks. Then help these people get whatever they need."

"Right away."

Matt nodded and Fraser led the squad. Matt lagged behind to keep an eye on the new Mr. Jackson. "Your brother didn't seem too cooperative."

Jackson frowned. "My brother has an attitude problem. Unfortunately, my father left this company to us both. I am the owner of record, but my brother Jay is my silent partner. Strong willed man, my daddy. He started out back in the sixties as a sanitation worker then realized there was money to be made picking up the trash that even his coworkers didn't want to handle. It was quite a struggle for him back then." A look of affectionate frustration passed over the businessman's face and he sighed before continuing. "For the most part, my father was a smart man, but he had his flaws. He could be sentimental. Jay, despite being a handful, was always my father's favorite. And he always loved this neighborhood and wanted to keep his business where it started. He put provisions for both in his will but believe me, I've got my lawyers working to get both disallowed."

"Did your father die recently?" Matt inquired, finding it easier to converse with this Mr. Jackson.

"Two years ago, but that will is iron clad."

Just then, Evander J Jackson entered the office from the hallway. He was wearing coveralls over his suit, the knot of a thin green tie askew at his neck. "You want to see me, Ev?" He ignored Matt entirely.

The skin of Jackson's eyes tightened as his brother pulled a pack of smokes from his coverall pocket and he jerked his head toward the 'no smoking' sign. The younger brother scowled back but the cigarettes remained in his pocket. "Why didn't you tell me Detective Bluestone had been here, Jay?"

Jackson the younger glanced over at Matt noticing him at last. His eyes registered hostility before he turned away. "I forgot. Is that all?"

"No, that is not all," his brother replied in a tight voice. "But we'll talk about it later. Are all the trucks unloaded?"

"Near enough. Dee is finishing up but I should watch him." He moved toward the exit.

"Hold it Mr. Jackson. I need you to stay here with me until the others have finished their search."

The room simmered in hostility for a long thirty minutes. Evander J Jackson took turns alternately scowling at Evander T and Matt and shifting his weight from one leg to the other like it was an effort to stay still. Matt examined him without being overly obvious. It appeared the younger Mr. Jackson was coming off of something and he'd need another fix soon if he were to make it through his workday. Interesting, but not immediately useful. He glanced at his watch just as Fraser and the uniforms began to troop out of hallway bearing boxes of records.

"You'll give us a receipt for those? Mrs. Randall said anxiously to Fraser.

"Detective Bluestone will give you one." He handed a receipt book to Matt.

He studied the inventory, checked the number of boxes they were confiscating and their contents against the notations and signed it before handing a copy back to Mrs. Randall. "Don't worry, ma'am, we'll get these back to you as soon as we can."

The woman looked at the boxes, some dusty and some brand new, as if they were favorite children. "Please do that, detectives."

* * * * *

****

23rd Precinct

"Okay, this is weird," Fraser looked up from the route log he'd been studying and rubbed at his eyes.

"Yeah. What's that?" Matt replied absently. The pair had returned from Harlem and without being asked, Fraser had slid behind Elisa's desk, hung his jacket on the back of her chair, loosened the cartoon frog tie and rolled up his sleeves. Matt had watched for a second about to object then closed his mouth, doffed his own jacket and similarly settled in. He was smart enough to know he needed help and the agent had shown himself to be competent and blissfully without attitude. Together they worked compiling crew reports from NYBSC so that they could check them against the personnel records of the various burgled companies.

"It's probably nothing. Just a blast from the past." He went back to checking working silently for several minutes before muttering again, "Or maybe not."

"You're on to something." Matt put down his pen and watched as Fraser dropped one set of files and picked up a second scratching notes on a yellow legal pad at irregular intervals.

Fraser rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and then grinned, shaking his head with disbelief. "I would have never believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself."

"Come on, Fraser, spill," Matt was desperate for a break in the case and he didn't really care at this point if it came from the F.B.I or Oberon himself.

"Okay, but it requires a trip back to the days of my youth." He settled back in Elisa's chair, tipping it back on the hind legs for a moment before speaking again. "Once upon a time, there was a brash young cop with a baby face who had delusions of cleaning up Philadelphia all by his lonesome. He wanted to be a homicide detective or at the very least work on the major crimes unit. His superiors, being older and wiser, recognized they had a valuable asset and much to the boy detective's disappointment they put him in the Juvie Unit where he was assigned to infiltrate high schools and other hot beds of underage vice." Fraser frowned at the memory. "Let me tell you it's not easy being eighteen, especially when you're twenty-five." He smiled self-depreciatingly. "They put me in remedial classes so I could explain I'd been held back if anybody questioned my age." The smile turned to a grimace and he moved on. "Which brings me to these names… Packer Wilson, Rodney Jones, Billy Tucker and Alphonse Tremaine. All fairly unusual. All names I knew in Philly back in the day."

"How?"

"I'm getting there," Fraser said, patiently. "These boys, assuming they are the one and the same, were an enterprising bunch. They came from a working class neighborhood where people expected their kids to pitch in, but these boys exceeded expectations. Even though they were all only sixteen or so years old, they organized a messenger and delivery service. And they were surprisingly successful. They were even written up in a local paper."

"So why did you get involved?"

"Purely by accident," Fraser admitted. "Funny that. I was undercover at the high school trying to find a dope dealer working off the campus. We were hoping to get to him and make him turn on his supplier and work our way up the chain. I found the dealer and talked him into taking me to his guy. Then I started working on him. One night at a meeting Alphonse Tremaine came by. Long story short, the boys weren't just delivering pizzas and flowers to the local office buildings, they were delivering tabs and dime bags too."

Matt considered Fraser's story. "You think that they're doing something similar here? Delivering cocaine along with the sharps containers?"

"I wouldn't rule it out. Even scientists like the occasional toot."

"Would these guys have the kind of connections to move stolen lab equipment?"

Fraser cocked his head to the side considering. "Doubtful. They were focused. And the set up, drivers to labs, delivery boys to office buildings, it's just too much like their former M.O."

Matt sighed. He knew something was wrong about NYBSC. But this had nothing to do with his case. "Okay. Nice catch, but not our problem. We can alert Narcotics and let them figure the rest of it out."

"Works for me," Fraser said. He picked up a pad of paper and noted the particulars from the Philadelphia drug case, pausing every so often as he dredged up decade old details before writing them down. Finally he tore off the sheet and handed it to Matt. "There. That oughtta give them something to start with."

"Philly," Matt commented after he had returned from Chavez's office and passed along the information. "I thought I picked up a trace of Pennsylvania in your accent."

Fraser nodded. "Yeah, I grew up there. Went to school there. Even worked a couple of years in the field office after I finished training at Quantico."

"You like working for the Bureau?" Matt asked.

Fraser looked up from the pencil he was balancing on his fingertip. "Well enough. It doesn't have the day to day excitement of life on the street, but we do good work when they let us off our leashes."

"Yeah, but who wants to work on a leash?" Matt asked rhetorically.

Fraser shrugged, twirled the pencil and tucked it behind his ear. He picked up a folder off the stack on the desk. "Jeez, what happened to this?"

Matt looked up. Fraser was holding the fingerprint analysis report. He'd blotted the pages carefully, but they still suffered the effects of the coffee soaking sustained in Captain Chavez's office.

"Damn, I'd forgotten all about that," Matt said. "That's the print report off the recovered equipment. I was going to check it against the personnel records."

"Good idea," Fraser commented as Matt handed him a stack of pages. "What's this?"

"Cross reference sheets. Current and plus past employee records for the last five years. You give me half the print report and then we can switch." Matt suddenly looked up from his work. "That is, if you don't mind. Truth is, Fraser, I kind of miss working with a partner."

"That's funny," the Bureau man commented. "I would have pegged you as a lone wolf."

Matt looked up. "Look, I'm sorry about that leash crack. I was a Fed for a while. It wasn't a good fit. I guess, I'm really not an organization man."

Fraser shrugged. "It takes all kinds to build a pyramid, some to plan, some to build and some to poke holes in the blueprint to find the flaws. They all serve a useful function."

Matt stared at Fraser and the F.B.I. agent met his gaze with a guileless smile but nothing else. He decided he was jumping at shadows. "Yeah, I guess." He went back to the reports and began his comparisons. The two men worked in silence for a time and then switched reports.

"Half a second," Matt said sometime later. "This is odd."

Fraser looked up. "What's that?"

I've got a scientist here. Lilith Ling. Her prints are on the equipment from Tri Cities Biotech, which you'd expect. She's the lab manager there. But here, they show up again." He shuffled paper looking back and forth between the two reports. "No, I'm sure of it. She's worked at Midtown Medical, and that was within the last six months, so print artifacts I'd expect to show up. But this… a thumb and forefinger print, right hand ten point match. Alpha Technology. Ling never worked at Alpha."

"Could she have visited their lab? Left the print that way?" Fraser posited.

Matt shook his head. "Unlikely. The lady herself told us that researchers are a secretive bunch afraid of tipping their hands early. Somehow I can't see them gathering for a weekly floating poker party. At least not where their work would be open for inspection."

Fraser was frowning as if trying to dredge something up from the depths. "What," Matt said. "You got something else?"

He shook his head. "It's just that name. Lilith Ling. I know I've heard it someplace before. A psych journal maybe? What does she do?"

Matt pulled out his interview notes. "She's a behaviorist. Behavioral studies as applied to genetics, but she doubles as the lab manager at Tri Cities Biotech."

Fraser shook his head again. "I dunno. I'll have to think about it. But I know I've seen her name before somewhere."

"Try to remember," Matt urged. "In the mean time, I'm gonna see what else I can dig up on Lilith Ling."

* * * * *

****

Castle Wyvern - Sunset

Jezebella stretched her arms skyward and flexed her wings, greeting the night with a snarling roar. Shaking the last bits of stone skin from her hair, she settled into a ready crouch on the ledge of the small balcony and gazed over at the castle's main tower, where the rest of the clan was stirring from their own perches.

"Good evening, Angela." Jezebella started slightly at the sound of the voice. She turned her head to find Fox standing behind her in the narrow doorway. The woman was attired casually in khaki slacks and a white turtleneck tank-top, and her long auburn hair was pinned back in a loose ponytail.

"Good evening, Fox," the gargoyle returned. Jezebella hopped down from the parapet and mustered a friendly smile. _So much for getting out of here without any delays._ "How are you?" she asked.

"I'm fine, Ang." Fox smiled back, her green eyes twinkling. "And you? Did you sleep well?"

Jezebella nodded. "Yes," she replied, "quite well. I feel a lot better tonight." _Quick, say something more._ "Andrea kept me out a lot longer than I'd expected last night," she added. "I was really beat by the time I finally got out of there, but I just can't say 'no' to her when she gets on a roll." _Perfect. Alibi established. Good work, Jezebella._

"I can't wait to see this new painting." Fox smirked good-naturedly. "Though I do hope the intrepid Miss Calhoun doesn't plan on monopolizing you for too much longer. There are some new offers on the table, Ang," she said, becoming all-business as she continued, "and we really need to sit down and discuss them soon. I haven't wanted to put pressure on you, but a lot of them are time-sensitive. I need to know which ones to move on so we can coordinate with P.I.T. If we can keep up the pace, we can stay a step ahead of the anti groups and that will be really beneficial for us come November." Fox paused to draw a breath and gave the young female a meaningful look. "So… could we plan on getting together for an hour or so sometime in the next few nights?"

"Sure, Fox." Jezebella couldn't help but be intrigued. The photo shoot had been fun, and she already planned to rub a copy of the magazine in Angela's pretty little face once it hit the stands. Every additional gig would just add to her triumph. Still, she had her work for Anton to consider, as well. "Let me check with Andrea tonight," she said, "and see what I can work out." Jezebella caped her wings and gently placed a taloned hand on Fox's bared shoulder, guiding her through the arched doorway back into Angela's tower workroom. _No,_ she reminded herself, _it's not Angela's room anymore. It's mine now._

"That -" A chill ran down Fox's back as the gargoyle's hand touched her skin. She turned her head slightly, brushing back the curl of hair above her tattooed eye as she met the girl's gaze. "- sounds fine, Angela," she said at last. Fox quieted, a dream image flickering briefly before her mind's eye. Angela, chained and caged. Then suddenly herself, bound, collared and helpless, a smug Elisa Maza looking on. Fox blinked and abruptly the mental picture vanished, leaving her with a slightly disconcerted look upon her face.

"Fox?" Jezebella eyed the human woman curiously as her cheeks flushed a bright pink. The gargoyle withdrew her hand, sensing it to be the source of Fox's sudden change of mood. _Be Angela,_ an internal voice prompted. "Fox, what is it?" she asked, taking care to remain in character. "Is something wrong?"

Fox drew away a half step, putting some distance between herself and the girl. "No. Yes. I mean… it's silly, really." She foundered for an answer, struggling to ignore the strange warmth that had risen inside her at Angela's innocent touch. Fox regarded the girl carefully. Angela was staring back at her expectantly with dark eyes, a hint of worry in her gaze. She shook her head in rueful embarrassment. There was no sense skirting the issue anymore, she decided. "You didn't have any… interesting dreams last night, did you, Ang?"

"No…" Jezebella cocked her head to the side and smiled. "Why do you ask?"

Fox dared to edge closer again. "Because I did." She paused. "And you were in it."

"I was?" Jezebella raised a brow-ridge, feigning the interest she supposed Angela might genuinely have were she here.

"Yes," Fox replied. "We were…" She paused, searching for an appropriate word. "…together. Like last time."

Jezebella's eyes widened, her interest suddenly peaked by the odd emphasis in Fox's tone. _Together? Angela and Fox?_ Her mind spun. "Last time?" she managed.

"There you are, Angela." Both women looked up and turned at the sudden interruption. Broadway stood in the balcony doorway, a smile on his round face as he spotted his mate. "I was wondering what happened to you. You weren't on your perch at sunrise." He caped his wings and stepped into the room, turning partially sideways to squeeze through the door. 

Jezebella traded a final questioning glance with Fox and stepped hesitantly into the big blue gargoyle's embrace. "I got caught up in my reading and lost track of time, my love," she said, placing her hands in his. "I roosted here." She offered a cheek and accepted a kiss, doing her best to play it cool even though her head was awash with new questions. She glanced at Fox again, but the woman returned only a friendly smile.

"We can talk more later, Ang." She waved a hand dismissively as she backed away. "I'm sure you two would like some privacy." Broadway acknowledged her with a nod and Fox slipped from the tower room, shaking her head as she pulled the heavy door shut behind her. "Just a silly dream," she muttered, relieved. A product of her own imagination, nothing more. "Nothing to worry about." Fox started down the stairs, deciding that if Angela hadn't shared it, she needn't trouble Elisa about it, either. 

* * * * *

"Elisa what are you doing out of bed? You are supposed to be resting and conserving your energy."

"Hey, Elisa, how are you feeling?"

"Good evening, lass."

Elisa greeted her clanmates with a warm smile. They were gathered in the common room and it appeared that Goliath and Brooklyn were in the middle of handing out the night's patrol assignments. "I'm fine, I took a nap. But I've got too much on my mind to stay in bed." She slipped an arm around Goliath, partly for support and partly because it just felt good to hold her life's mate. "There's been some developments in Angela's case. I need to talk to her," she allowed Goliath to lead her to one of the benches that sat along side the long wooden table that served as central gathering point and after she was settled she added, "and the rest of you guys too."

Jezebella entered with Broadway close on her heels. "Elisa," she said, slightly startled. "I hadn't expected to see you up."

"Yeah, I'm getting a lot of that." Elisa winked at Goliath and he quirked a quick smile back at her. "Angela," she said, turning serious. "I need to ask you some questions about those nights you were missing. I know it's tough, but I need you to try and remember as much as you can about the people that held you. Voices, anything you might have seen."

Jezebella gave the detective a look of genuine apprehension. Her heart began to pound in her chest. _Was this a trap?_ "I can't."

Broadway was quick to put a comforting wing around his mate. "Take it easy, babe. Take a deep breath and try to relax."

"Please, Angela," Elisa said. She tried to keep her voice low and soothing, but an insistent note crept into the request. "I know it's tough but it's important. Tell me about your captors."

Jezebella relaxed a fraction. She gave the detective a helpless gaze. Elisa was on a fishing expedition. She could work with that. "They kept me drugged and blindfolded."

Elisa held up a hand. "Okay, don't pressure yourself. Just go back to the beginning. Where did they take you?"

"The park," Jezebella replied. She twisted at the end of her long sable plait anxiously. "I was coming back from mother's and I heard a cry of distress. It was Danny. He was on the ground and there were three, no four humans attacking him."

Elisa nodded and gave Angela an encouraging smile. "Good. You're doing fine. What happened next?"

Jezebella drew a deep breath. Her eyes closed as if she was being pulled into the memory. "I went to help him. I didn't see the one behind me with the rock. I was hit. Here." She pointed to a spot on the back of her skull.

Elisa looked up at Goliath. "So they did a switch. Lured Angela in, whacked her on the head and left the double in her place. You came along and brought her back to the castle."

"We know all this, Elisa. Putting Angela through it again isn't going to help us find who did this to her," Broadway protested.

Elisa gave him a patient look. The burly aqua gargoyle had worked the end of Angela's ponytail away from her and was stroking her head gently, trying to calm the agitated female. "You know better than that, Broadway. Angela was an eyewitness. She saw things and if she gives herself a chance she'll remember them. That's information we need. Now keep going. Tell us what happened next."

"I don't know!" Jezebella cried.

"Shhhhh, Ang, just relax," Elisa coaxed. "Do you remember the ride to their hideout?"

"I was drugged. I don't remember anything."

Elisa drew a breath and allowed Jezebella to do the same. The impostor looked at the others hoping for some kind of out. She could find none among them. Lexington had an arm around Delilah and the strange Elisa-like gargoyle had a fiercely protective scowl marring her delicate features. Hudson sat in his armchair listening patiently. Sata had escorted the children out of the room as soon as it appeared it was going to be a serious conference and had just returned to Brooklyn's side.

"I'm trying," she whispered. Her lip trembled as she flashed on those horrible long minutes she has spent locked in the stasis chamber. Dark, oppressive and claustrophobic she had clawed at the top of the enclosure after being shocked and beaten by Candy. The trembling grew more pronounced and tears began to fog her vision, causing the others to smear out of focus. She wiped at her eyes angrily but the tears began to flow unchecked as she found herself caught in the memory of horrid abandonment.

Broadway's winged embrace, meant to be comforting, only served to enhance her claustrophobia. Jezebella broke free. "I'm sorry," she wailed and ran from the room.

"Angela?" Broadway called after her. He dropped to all fours the better to follow. "Angela! Baby, wait up!"

"Angela wait!" Elisa called she struggled to get up. "Jalapena," she muttered as she tangled her feet trying to clear the bench. Goliath steadied her and she stood, mentally berating herself for pushing too hard.

"Someone should go after them," Delilah decided. She started to follow.

"No," Goliath decreed. "Broadway will care for his mate. The rest of you will remain."

"Thanks, Goliath," Elisa closed her eyes for a moment trying to regain her objectivity. She was a cop with a case. She had seen hysterical witnesses before. They usually calmed down and sometimes they even came through. With persistence, Angela would remember something they could use. It was just a matter of patience.

"You said you had some new information, lass. Why don't you tell us about it before Goliath carries you off?" Hudson said in response to the increasingly worried glances his protégé was giving his mate.

Elisa nodded and for the second time Goliath helped her to sit. She kept her legs outward this time and leaned against the edge of the table. "Right. I found out today that Anton Sevarius is dead. Has been dead for quite a while."

"What?" "When?" "How?" The responses to the news tripped over themselves as Elisa took a breath and relayed her earlier conversation with Matt. "But it doesn't change the fact that while Sevarius might not be a suspect in Angela's kidnapping, someone like him is working with her clone. If we find the clone, we can find the kidnapper."

There was a general muttering among her clanmates as they absorb the latest twist in the case. Delilah in particular had a dark scowl and was whispering fiercely to Lexington. Her comrades of the Labyrinth clan had all been transformed by Sevarius, and without him answers they had sought might never be revealed despite the work of Dr. Goldblum and others like him.

"I need to find this guy," Elisa said, recapturing the attention of the others. "Whoever he is, he was behind the biotech robberies and Angela's kidnapping. I'd like to close both cases. Soon."

"We will redouble our efforts, Elisa-san," Sata proclaimed.

Elisa flashed a quick smile at the fierce Japanese female. "Thanks. We don't know what this clone will try next. She may try and infiltrate the castle again or maybe pull something like she did at the bus station and try and discredit Angela."

"The lass is too important as our spokesperson to be compromised," Hudson proclaimed.

There was a general agreement from the others. Elisa nodded. "All right. Then be on the look out." Elisa's dark eyes were downcast but her jaw was set as she said, "I know it seems like a long shot, but let's keep close tabs on Angela in case they try another switch."

"I think Broadway has that covered," Brooklyn noted. The brick red gargoyle pursed his beak as Ptah entered. The Egyptian seemed to have something important on his mind as he entered the common area and resolutely faced off with Goliath. He bowed politely before stating, "I must speak with you."

Brooklyn caught Goliath's eye. The clan leader nodded fractionally giving his okay for the Second to assume control of the others. "You heard Elisa," he said. "Let's hit the streets. Keep an extra sharp eye on the public places - anything that might be a good photo op. Pair off and don't forget your radios. Sata," he said turning to his mate. "Get the kids in on this. We want all eyes."

"Of course, my love." Sata inclined her head, acknowledging his authority as clan Second. The others filed out after them leaving Ptah alone with Elisa and Goliath.

A contemplative look flitted briefly over Ptah's bovine features as he regarded Elisa. The human woman had been present at his first meeting with Goliath. They had not been introduced but clearly this must be the mate that had thwarted Senen's scheme. He quickly schooled his features into a more polite guise. He bowed at her as he did Goliath. "Please accept my apologies for intruding on your council, Goliath. And you." He smiled at Elisa and bowed over his hands. "Though we have met before, we were never properly introduced. You must be the honored Elisa."

"I must," Elisa replied dryly wondering what was it about the obsequious gargoyle that set her teeth on edge. Was it his toadying manner or his cold reptilian eyes and cobra-esque cowl that conflicted with his wide bull-like muzzle? Ptah was many things, but no one would have ever called him handsome. She inclined her head. "You'll excuse me if I don't get up."

"What is it, Ptah?" Goliath crossed his arms over his broad chest and tried to keep the impatience that Ptah seemed to induce by his very existence at bay. The elder seemed about to launch into one of his flowery discourses and the clan leader felt himself tense in anticipation. "I am busy."

Ptah touched the tip of one severed horn, a reminder of what happened when one made bargains with questionable allies, and poured regret into his voice. "Of course. I do not wish to intrude on time as valuable as yours and that of your mate." He turned to Elisa and peered at her closely. "Your injuries, are they healing well? I understand that for humans it can take quite some time."

Elisa found his wide-eyed gaze unsettling. "I'll admit I wouldn't mind a course of stone sleep to speed things along, but I'm managing." She glanced up at Goliath who had moved close in response to Ptah's interest. As much as she appreciated his proximity being sandwiched between the two males while she sat on the bench was getting to her. She shifted herself up onto the tabletop and leaned against Goliath's arm. "I'm really supposed to be in bed recuperating so maybe you should tell us what's on your mind."

"Your daughter -" He included them both in the statement. And Elisa realized it had less to do with the human concept of step-parenting and more with the fact he was acknowledging, grudgingly, her status as senior clan female. "- so grievously and recently injured. She appears whole on the surface, does she not?"

Goliath's eyes narrowed. He drew breath through his nose and counted to himself. Elisa noticed his ramping tension and tried to intervene. She had disliked their visitor on sight, but diplomacy must be maintained. "Angela has pulled herself together pretty well, all things considered."

Ptah shifted his gaze to the injured detective, studying her closely. Elisa met his gaze with an expression that dared him to contradict her. He dared. "Alas, I wish I held your confidence, revered one. My audiences with the most honored Angela have left me with an unsettling awareness that she is growing increasingly unsound in mind. Just now, I witnessed her fleeing from this very room in a torrent of tears, inconsolable, her mate at her heels."

"She was a little upset, yeah," Elisa acknowledged. "It couldn't be helped." She raised a hand to her forehead. She felt hot and more than a little bit antsy. She wished Ptah would go away and leave her with Goliath. The day and its unsettling developments had left her seriously in need of alone time with her mate.

Ptah gave a ponderous shake of his head. "Perhaps. Perhaps you do not see what is before you."

"What are you suggesting, Ptah?" Goliath drawled ominously.

The elder gargoyle backed up a pace in response to Goliath's tension. "It is an unfortunate thing, but I have seen it before. Your beloved daughter is losing her sense of reason. Soon she will be completely irrational and you will be forced to care for her as if she were once more a hatchling."

Elisa was incredulous. Yeah, Angela was upset. But they had a name for it - Post Traumatic Stress. She'd get over it in time.

Goliath blew his cool at last. "How dare you suggest such a thing!" he growled.

Ptah dipped his head with regret. "It was not my desire to offend you with my observation, Clan Leader! But sometimes an outsider sees thing that others are too close to detect. I bring this to your attention only to prepare you for what is to come."

Elisa watched Goliath. His tail snapped at the floor in response to barely sublimated rage and the situation was close to spiraling completely out of hand. "You're slick, Ptah, I'll hand you that," she said mildly. Goliath tore his attention from the elder to look at her. She shook her head and smiled, a little pleased she'd figured out the Egyptian's ploy. "It's a con, Goliath. Angela is too messed up in the head to make her own decisions, so the responsibility reverts to you." She curled her fingers around her mate's bicep, savoring the incredibly soft skin. "I don't think so, elder." She felt Goliath relax fractionally as he grasped her intuitive understanding of the elder's strategy.

"May I remind you, Ptah that you are here at my daughter's sufferance? If I am to question her judgment, perhaps I should start there," Goliath replied. A hard smile curved the corners of his mouth and Ptah took a step back.

"Perhaps I am hasty to judge. I don't know the all the circumstances of her injury. I should allow her the benefit of time before coming to such a dire conclusion."

"Perhaps you should," Elisa said. She glanced out the door and saw a shock of long white hair just beyond the archway. Brooklyn had hung back waiting for Goliath after sending the other patrols on their rounds. "But maybe there's a way you can make amends."

"Indeed, my lady. My services are yours to command."

"Brooklyn, can you come in here a minute?"

The tall and powerful Second appeared and leaned against the doorway. "You need me, Elisa?"

"Yeah, Ptah just volunteered to go out on patrol. Why don't you take him with you and fill him in on the way."

"You got it, Elisa." The crow's feet around his eyes crinkled in silent amusement. From the casual arm she had resting on Goliath and the bemused twinkle in her dark eyes, Brooklyn didn't have to imagine that Elisa was enjoying the discomfited look on Ptah's face as she casually ordered the clan Second to do her bidding. And hey, who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth? Tonight he would glide at Ptah's wing, not skulk in his wake. Perhaps tonight he would get some real answers.

* * * * *

****

Somewhere in Midtown

The whooshing sound of wings on the breeze announced a gargoyle's arrival. Candy stepped cautiously out from behind the parked van, checking her watch as Jezebella alighted nearby. "Finally. You're almost an hour late, Jez." 

"It couldn't be helped," she replied. The lavender-skinned female glanced about the alley, making sure they were alone. "Fox nabbed me right off my perch to chat about some things and then Elisa tried to corner me right after that." Jezebella drew a calming breath and caped her wings. "I got out of there as quickly as I could, but I still had to stop by Destine Manor on the way to get this."

Candy took the laminated badge the girl held out for her and examined it. On one side, there was a magnetic stripe. On the other, the Nightstone logo, a small photo and a printed name: Andrea L. Calhoun.

"Nice wig, by the way."

Candy slipped the borrowed ID card into her shirt pocket and brushed a hand self-consciously through her new blonde pageboy coif. "Thanks," she muttered. She lifted the handle and slid open the side door of the minivan. "I hope it'll do. It's the best I could find on such short notice."

"You'll be fine." Jezebella smiled and reached out to brush the lock of hair the woman had just disturbed back into place with her talon. "It's mainly for the cameras anyway. Hardly anyone should be in the building at this hour, and chances are good that the night guard at the parking garage entrance won't even be awake when we pull in."

Candy nodded as the gargoyle climbed into the van. "You know, Jez, that whole thing you told me the other night, about Dominique Destine being your mother? That was weird enough on its own… but thinking about it more, it sure clears up a lot of things about Andy, too." She grinned wryly. "But tell me, Jez… why are we going through all this trouble of using her ID to get into the building? You can glide and I can, well, fly… sort of. We could easily go in right through Ms. Destine's office window."

"No, we couldn't," Jezebella replied. "We don't know if doing that would set of an alarm. And even if it didn't… my mother is the kind of person who will _know_ that someone's been in her office if even so much as a pencil has been moved. Someone will still have to take the rap for having been in there without permission when she finally gets back from Paris." She smirked devilishly. "I'd prefer it not having to be me," she said, shrugging. "She's already been having friction with Andrea, so it just seemed to me like she was a good first choice."

Candy nodded quietly and ran a finger along her temple as a long piece of honey blonde hair slipped again into her peripheral vision, reminding her why she kept her real tresses cropped in a short pixie style. The thought of being responsible for causing her sweet little gargoyle-loving ex to land in hot water with her hot-tempered half-human, half-gargoyle significant other made her tingle with unexpected anticipation. "Works for me, Jez." she said at last. She stepped up into the van, pulling the door shut behind her. "Let's get this show on the road."

* * *

"Special Projects," Candy said as she opened the file drawer marked "S" and began thumbing through the neatly labeled green folders hanging from the rack. Snipes, Sorrenson, Spangler, Speilberg, Spock. No, this wasn't it, either. Candy sighed and slid the drawer closed. She should have known it couldn't be that easy. It had been a half hour since she and Jezebella had used Andy's pilfered passkey to enter the luxurious top floor executive office of Dominique Destine. She was supposed to be looking for a file on some kind of neural interface, but far all she had found in the Nightstone CEO's long wall of polished oak filing cabinets was payroll records, purchase order receipts, and - just now - personnel records.

She turned to the last bank of file drawers, batting away the annoying strand of hair that kept slipping in front of her eye, and glanced up at the painting that hung on the wall nearby. "Don't mind me, ladies," she said, addressing the two women in the portrait. Candy smirked, then paused. She immediately recognized the well-dressed redhead as the Nightstone CEO, but she couldn't quite place the second woman. She was a brunette, younger, dressed in an equally stylish but less severely tailored navy blue ensemble. Candy stared at the image for a long moment, unable to shake the feeling that she should know who the young woman was. Like she'd once seen her in a magazine or on TV. Shaking her head, she leaned forward to examine the signature in the bottom corner of the painting. She made a face as she spied "A. Calhoun" scribed in a familiar flowing cursive. "Hmph," she muttered. "I bet it's really nice having a sugar mama, isn't it, Andy?"

"Have you found anything yet, Candace?"

The sound of her name pulled Candy from her reverie. She turned her head in the direction of Jezebella's voice, finding her across the room, still sitting in front of the computer at Ms. Destine's expansive desk. "Not yet," she replied, returning her attention to the last file cabinet. "But there's still four more drawers left to check." She tugged open the topmost one and raised an eyebrow optimistically at noting its contents were sorted by number rather than letter. Candy pried a random file folder loose from its hanger and peeked inside. Contract documents, inter-office correspondence, and at the very back of the file, a technical report. This looked promising. "Hey, Jez," she called as she tucked the file back into place, "What was that project number the Doc gave us?"

"99-0100-2210," Jezebella replied. There was a faint trace of annoyance in the gargoyle's voice. "You should really start taking notes at the briefings, Candace," she added.

Candy snorted. "What am I now, a secretary?" She closed the top drawer, realizing it contained only current-year files whose project numbers started with "01," and dropped to her knees, moving on a hunch to the third drawer down. "When Sevarius brought me on board, I'd thought it was because he needed my unique skills," she said as she opened it. She smiled as she spotted "99" numbers on the file tabs. "So far, I haven't done anything tonight that I couldn't just as easily have done as a normal human."

"I thought you _wanted_ to be a normal human again," Jezebella replied, distracted by her own work.

The halfling woman paused, then nodded in acquiescence to the comment. "Yeah, I do." she said. Candy quieted, the same unsettled feeling that had been plaguing her ever since seeing Jezebella floating in the tank returning. Sevarius claimed he was close now, very close. After the mission briefing, he had taken her aside and proudly told her as much. All he needed was for her to solicit three volunteers to be the first of her people to receive treatment. It was the news she'd been waiting to hear for months, so why did finally getting it creep her out? Was it because of how Sevarius had insisted she _not_ be one of the first three, in a way that suggested there were risks he wasn't telling her about? Or was there something else about this unexpected news that was setting off alarm bells in her head?

Candy drew a deep breath and did her best to ignore the knot in her stomach. Right now, she reminded herself, she had work to do. She trailed her fingertips over the files as she searched, and within seconds she was grinning. "Gotcha!" she said, snagging a thick file with the same ten-digit number on the tab as the one Jezebella had given her and tugging it free from its place in the drawer.

"I think I've got something here, Jez," she announced as she rose back to her feet. Candy turned and bumped the drawer closed with her hip as she held the file aloft. The proud smile on her face faded a notch, though, when Jezebella failed to look up. Candy rolled her eyes and strode across room. "Yoo-hoo, earth to Jez. Look, I've found something."

The gargoyle's eyes flicked up for a moment, briefly acknowledging Candy as she stood there leafing through the heavy file. "Good work," she said before returning her gaze to the computer screen. "Go make us a copy of it. There's a machine in the outer office near the receptionist's desk."

Candy nodded but did not move off. Instead, she continued to skim through the neatly typed report that sat near the front of the file. _"… an implantable, reprogrammable interface capable of both receiving and transmitting neural impulses directly to the brain…" _read one of the few lines she could comprehend. Candy frowned contemplatively, the same feeling of uneasiness returning. "What does this 'neural interface' thing do, anyway," she asked, "and why does the Doc want it?"

Jezebella looked up again, but the question hung in the air for a long moment before she offered an answer. "I think it's for helping the handicapped or something." She shrugged. "I don't understand all the science stuff, either, Candace. All I know is if it wasn't important to his work, we wouldn't be here."

"I suppose you're right." Candy regarded the girl carefully and tried to keep the doubt out of her voice. Jezebella seemed sincere, but she was also still essentially the boss's daughter. It put the halfling woman in an awkward place, and she couldn't help wondering if Jezebella actually knew more than she was letting on.

"Don't worry so much, Candace. Anton knows what he's doing." Jezebella forced a smile that Candy could only assume was meant to be reassuring. "Now go make a copy of that paper file, while I finish copying these electronic ones. I don't know about you, but I really didn't want to spend the whole night here."

Candy nodded again. "Right." She started to turn away, then paused. "Jez, are you…" She froze before the last word could leave her lips, suddenly unsure what it was about the gargoyle's body language that had prompted the question. Flustered, Candy shook her head. "Never mind," she said as the girl looked at her expectantly. Her cheeks were burning as she moved away. "I'll just go make these copies now."

For a long moment, Jezebella stared after the halfling. "Why is _she_ so distracted tonight?" she wondered quietly. She turned her attention back to the computer, where another CD-R was nearing completion. According to Anton, Candace and the others would shortly be restored to their former human selves, so what on earth could the woman possibly be worried about? After all, Jezebella mused, it wasn't as if _she_ had just received the third degree from Maza, or had the bombshell dropped on her that her twin sister was in the habit of having occasional illicit liaisons with her benefactress.

Just thinking about it again made Jezebella's head spin. Fox was attractive for a human and she could certainly understand the allure of such an affair, but it boggled her mind to think that Angela would engage in something so risky. Goliath would never approve, of that she was almost certain. Did Broadway know about it, though? Or had Angela been playing him for a fool just as she had played her unwitting sister all those years ago? Inwardly, Jezebella seethed. She had come too far to have her sister's sexual kinks trip her up. She would have to pry the truth from Angela, no matter what it took. "If the little slut cares at all about keeping her precious egg safe," she muttered, "she'll tell me everything I want to know."

An urgent chime from the computer drew Jezebella back from her unquiet musings. A message box with a red X on it had appeared on the screen. _"Error writing files to CD," _it read._ "Bad sector found. Insert new disk to retry."_ The gargoyle glowered at the screen, a growl rising in her throat as she grabbed the mouse and clicked "OK."

"Damn it," she grumped. "Now I need another disk." She'd only brought three with her, and that had been the last one. Annoyed, she began tugging open the desk drawers, searching for any stash her mother might have that she could borrow from. "Yes," she hissed, finding an open box in the left side middle drawer. Jezebella snagged one of the CDs and pushed the drawer shut with her tail, and she was about to close the one below it when a glossy picture on the page of a magazine caught her eye.

"What's this now?" Carefully, Jezebella withdrew the old magazine and laid it on the desktop, unfolding it and smoothing it with her talons. "'Out of the Closet: Nightstone CEO's Unexpected Announcement Receives Mixed Response,'" she said, reading the full headline above the half-page photo of a stylishly dressed Dominique Destine and Andrea Calhoun standing with hands clasped. "Hmm, how cute," Jezebella muttered. Pursing her lips, she scanned the article, and a second later her eyes went wide. Near the bottom of the page was a smaller photo of a smartly dressed young human woman. "Daughter, Angela Brigitte Destine: 'I know she's happy and I support her decision,'" read the caption.

Jezebella blinked. How could there be a _human_ Angela Destine? Did Demona have an employee who pretended to be Dominique Destine's daughter, just to keep up appearances? She turned back to the previously neglected bottom drawer and extracted the rest of its contents. More magazines and a few old newspapers, some brittle and yellowed with age. She spread them out on the desk, examining in turn the place in each one that had been marked by a self-stick note or a dog-eared page. Some of the articles were about Dominique and Andrea, but there were others that mentioned Dominique's daughter, as well. In most of them, Miss Angela Brigitte Destine was only noted by name, but Jezebella gasped in shock as she spied the small black and white photo that graced the marked page of a three-year-old copy of _The Daily Tattler_. The same young human woman, smiling prettily, included in an article headed "Manhattan's Top Ten Most Eligible People." Beside the photo was a brief blurb describing her as the "attractive and unattached future heiress to Nightstone Unlimited."

"But… why would Mother have a human masquerade as Angela? And how did she…?" Jezebella quieted as she pulled the first magazine back to the top of the pile and compared the photo with that in the old tabloid. The human's hairstyle and hair color were identical to Angela's, she realized, and the facial features… no, it couldn't be. Could it? Her eyes flitted to the top photo of the human Dominique Destine, then back to the one of her supposed daughter. "By the dragon," she mouthed, "no way. That's impossible!"

"What have you got there, Jez?" The gargoyle sat numbly, still staring at the page as Candy inched up beside her. The halfling scowled as she spotted the photo of Dominique and Andrea, but her eyes widened in recognition as her attention shifted to the spot on the page from which Jezebella seemed unable to tear her gaze. "Hey, that's the same chick that's in that painting."

Jezebella looked up sharply. "Painting? What painting?"

Candy edged back, giving the girl room to rise. "Over there." She pointed across the room. "On the wall by the filing cabinets."

Jezebella stood up, circled around the desk, and moved slowly in the direction Candy had indicated, peering into the dimness with narrowed eyes. They hadn't turned any lights on in the office. They hadn't wanted to draw undue attention, and neither gargoyle nor halfling had needed anything more than the ambient glow of the city that came through the windows to attend to her task. It wasn't until Jezebella had approached within ten feet, though, that she was able to make out the image inside the ornate frame hanging upon the wall. Softly, she gasped.

Candy followed the girl at a discreet distance, until at last she, too, could make out the painting again. In the dimness, her eyes widened as she took in together for the first time the image on the canvas and the lavender-skinned gargoyle who stood staring at it in wonder. "Oh my god," she muttered. "Jez… that girl… it's a human version of you!"

"No," Jezebella replied quietly, her eyes never leaving the image. "Not me. It's my sister."

"Holy shit. You didn't tell me that _she_ can turn human by day, too."

"I didn't know she could," Jezebella intoned. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. Another surprise. Another set of questions. And yet another thing to be jealous of. "Angela has a lot of secrets she's been keeping from me," she added darkly. "I think she and I are going to have to have another chat."

Candy swallowed hard. "Right, Jez. But we've got work to finish first."

Jezebella broke eye contact with the painting and turned her gaze to Candy, staring at her for a long moment with an unreadable expression on her face. "Yes," she said at last, "you're right. My sister is not going anywhere." She smiled. "I can be patient."

* * * * *

****

Near Central Park

"Do you do this often, Ambassador Brooklyn?" Ptah inquired stiffly as he looked down on the gathering below.

The pair sat perched observing an anti-gargoyle demonstration half-heartedly underway in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Actually, Brooklyn observed, it wasn't that the demonstrators were half-hearted, they were agitating their bitter little hearts out, but the crowd that was swarming past had other things on its mind. They were more interested in the film festival of classic monster movies that promised the normally staid crowd a whimsical change of pace. They couldn't be bothered by the motley collection of angry people who so resembled extras out of director James Whale's _Frankenstein_ or _The Invisible Man_, both scheduled for the night's program. All that was missing were the pitchforks and torches. 

"Hmm?" Brooklyn replied drawing his attention back to his companion. "Yeah. It pays to keep an eye on the opposition and this would be just the kind of thing the newspapers would eat up with a spoon. Imagine if the phony Angela showed up and caused a scene. I can see the headlines now: 'Spokesgoyle Attacks Monsterfest at the Met'."

"I see your point." Ptah shifted his wings and tried to make himself more comfortable. They were hiding in the shadows on the roof across the courtyard from the main entrance. Brooklyn had settled into a waiting pose and he attempted to do the same, wondering all the while why they were wasting their time on the affairs of mere humans. 

Still, it was his mission for the evening to curry favor with the clan's Second even as he attempted to formulate a new strategy for dealing with Goliath and his formidable mate. Their most recent encounter could not have been described as going well by any definition. The human woman had seen through him in an instant, exposing his plan with casual amusement. It galled him and made him think. Perhaps he should have waited a little longer to press his point about Angela's instability. Perhaps he should have just bided his time and used her fracturing mental state to push her until she decided that she could not be trusted to care for her egg.

Ptah grimaced. That would have been a masterful plan. He wondered why he had been so off balance since arriving in the city. Was it the pressure of knowing that Van Winkle and his brethren were always watching? Or was he just getting too old to play games of intrigue? Was there a part of him who no longer desired his life's ambition to lead his clan? That felt he was not up to the challenge of the new age on whose threshold they stood? 

He had no ready answers so he returned his attention to the warrior at his side. There was something different about that one. Something more than his evident experience with many places and cultures. During his tenure in Egypt, Brooklyn had surprised Senen and the rest of the elders by his use of ancient ceremonial gestures and courtesies. His children were versed in languages and customs other than the American one expected them to know. They had been observed speaking Japanese, a language inherited from their mother Sata, - a mystery unto herself - and other tongues as the occasion suited them. 

No, Ptah decided, it was his mouth that bothered him the most. True, Brooklyn had the weary look of one who had seen way too much and was still able to tell the tale, but the bemused half smile that curled at the edge of his beak unsettled Ptah. It was if the Second knew that everything they did was part of some larger game and only he knew the outcome. 

He shook himself out of his reverie as the last of the festival-goers entered the museum. The protesters chanted a few more verses of doggerel for the news camera that was also an obligatory part of the gathering, but they died off as soon as the camerawoman covered her lens and began to pack up her gear. 

"Okay, we can move on," Brooklyn said. He whispered into the radio built into his forearm gauntlet and stood stretching his wings. "Come on, we should run a sweep of the rest of the area. Maybe we can find a few muggers to break up the monotony." He turned to his companion. The elder gargoyle had an edgy look to his bovine features and the cobra-like cowl was half extended in a wary pose. "What. You see something?"

Ptah tore his gaze from the black suited man standing by himself in the courtyard. "No. Nothing." The cowl deflated as the Egyptian forced himself to calm down. _By Isis, he is everywhere!_ Down below, Van Winkle stood watching the crowd. Watching him.

Brooklyn followed Ptah's gaze down toward the courtyard. Motley bunch of protesters. Check. Second string news crew. Check. Bored bystanders milling off towards their next five minutes of excitement. Check. Guy in black suit and shades watching the rest…

The brawny gargoyle craned forward trying to get a better look but the man had turned away and was heading toward the street to hail a cab. At his side, Ptah seemed to relax further. _Owen said Van Winkle had been human, at least at one point. Could that have been Ptah's mystery man?_ Brooklyn wondered. _He looks like a cop or a body guard._ He snuck another glance at Ptah. The old guy was spooked, no doubt about it. "You know, Ptah, if there's anything you want to tell me, say, about who's really behind this egg deal, I'm more than willing to listen."

The elder gargoyle stared at him. Something hopeful flitted across his face and then died. He drew himself up to his full height and assumed a regal demeanor. "I have stated my case to those it concerns," he said stiffly. "They have my reasons."

Brooklyn shrugged. "Right. Well, if you change your mind." He let the matter drop. "Come on. Let's finish our sweep." 

Ptah hung behind as Brooklyn took to the air. Did he dare trust the Clan Second? Or was Van Winkle's presence a sign that it would be folly to confess and seek assistance from the Manhattan clan? Cowed and for one of the few times in his life frightened, Ptah leapt from his perch and followed.

* * * * *

****

Castle Wyvern

It was only 11:00 A.M. and already it seemed like the mercury was heading inexorably past sultry and straight to uncomfortable. Matt tugged at his tie, loosening it, and then did the same for his collar. He was tired. He'd been more or less on duty for several days straight, working split shifts and doubles as the case demanded. He hoped things would come to a head soon. Breaking an important case would be helpful currency in saving both his career and Elisa's when they went before the coming review board. 

Speaking of his partner, there she was, sunning herself as she had been before in the shadow of Goliath. The rest of the clan had taken to various spots on the roof and parapets, but their leader was poised in a corner of the courtyard, standing quietly with his wings neatly caped. Even frozen in stone he exuded a power and quiet dignity that couldn't be marred by Elisa, dressed in a skimpy pair of cut-off shorts and a red checked halter-top, using him as a backstop for a chaise lounge cushion.

"You look comfortable," Matt commented as he approached. 

Elisa opened her eyes and blinked as if somewhere far away. "Hmm. Uh yeah. It's starting to feel just like home."

The detective watched appreciatively as his long-limbed partner rose gracefully to her feet. "That's a new look for you."

Elisa looked down at her clothes, chosen more or less at random. The day promised to be unbearably warm again, and her usual jeans and tee ensemble seemed positively oppressive when she pulled them from the dresser drawer. The shorts were a pair of jeans that had seen better days. The denim was old and faded and before she'd taken a pair of scissors to them there had been a rent in one knee from a fall she had taken chasing a suspect. How they, and the halter, purchased just prior to a spur of the moment getaway to the Hamptons with Goliath, had managed to end up in her dresser at the castle she could only guess, although she tended to attribute to it to her mate's somewhat haphazard packing after his edict about their living arrangements. "It's part of the comfortable theme." Reluctantly she got up off the green and white striped cushion. "But all good things must come to an end. How are things going with the case?"

Matt pulled off his suit jacket, exposing his shoulder holster. He undid his tie and slipped the length of silk into his pocket before rolling up his sleeves. The merest breath of a breeze made itself felt as the detectives settled in on their now accustomed bench. "You first. Did you learn anything from Angela?"

Elisa frowned and shook her head. "I tried to interview her last night. On the surface she's holding together pretty well, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to push her just a little. She totally crumbled on me." The female half of the team paused, recalling the aborted interview. "Whatever they did to her must have been pretty horrific, Matt. I'm thinking of talking to her about spending some time with a trauma therapist." She pushed a hand through her mane of dark hair and turned to meet her partner's gaze. "What about you, any luck?"

Matt shrugged. "Fifty-fifty. Fraser recognized some of the names from the personnel records at NYBCS. They're drug traffickers from Philly. I turned the information over to Narcotics and they're setting up a sting." 

Elisa plaited her hair as she listened to her partner. "So you struck out?" She sounded resigned to disappointment.

"Not entirely." Omitting the tale of the coffee stained report, Matt told her about Ling. A glimmer of hope animated his partner's face as he reported. He felt a surge of energy himself as Elisa contemplated the behaviorist's involvement. 

"It still doesn't seem quite right, Matt." Elisa toyed with the end of her braid. "Sure, Ling could be mixed up in this. Her prints on the equipment are suspicious, sure. But what's her motivation?"

"I don't know. I wish Angela could have given us something to work with. I know a name would have been too much, but a face, something."

"Yeah, too bad our only other witness decided to leave town," Elisa groused. "Hey, maybe we could get him back. You could re-interview him."

Matt opened his mouth to reply and was interrupted by the chirping of his cell phone. "Just a minute." He retrieved the phone from the jacket lying on the bench at his side and flipped it open. "Bluestone." His eyes went wide and Elisa watched with renewed interest as he sputtered, "Jeannie? I mean, Jeannie. What a coincidence we were just talking about you." 

* * *

"Thank Oberon." Jeannie breathed a sigh of relief as she clutched the hard plastic receiver in one hand while struggling with the accordion door of the telephone booth, trying to block the steady stream of traffic noise that filtered through from Ontario Street. "We made it to Cleveland, Matt, but there's been some trouble and I don't know where else to turn. I tried to call Andrea, but no one has answered there for days and I need somebody's help. I hope you don't mind me imposing."

She sagged against the tiny metal countertop at his reply. "No, of course not. What can I do?" 

Jeannie drew a breath. It wasn't easy asking for help. But it was for Danny and that gave her the strength to try. She had promised the Puck that she would care for the halfling boy and she dared not fail at the first challenge. But confronting the constabulary alone even with the sheaf of papers that Andrea had pressed on her it seemed a more daunting task then she could bear. "The authorities have arrested him. He's being held at -" she looked down at the rectangle of cardboard the desk sergeant had pressed into her hand. "- The Justice Center. 1300 Ontario Avenue."

* * *

Elisa watched as Matt held up a hand as if trying to calm his caller. "Just relax, Jeannie. Can you tell me what happened? Huh. Newspapers. No vendor's permit. Well, I'll give him points for trying. And they won't release him why?" He nodded and grimaced. "An example. Sounds like politics to me. No, I'm glad you called. Of course I'll come." He glanced at his watch. "No. It's okay. What's the number there at the station?" He fished around in his jacket pocket and pulled out a notepad and pen. "Give it to me again. And where are you staying?" He jotted another note, set the pad and pen down and nodded, repeating reassurances into the phone. "Okay. I'll be out on the next flight." 

Matt snapped the phone shut. Elisa was looking at him curiously. "What?"

"Not that I'm looking a gift lead in the mouth, Matt, but why did Jeannie call you?"

Matt shrugged. "Default. No one's answering the phone at Destine Manor and I was the next number on Jeannie's list. Danny's gotten himself in a jam and she needs help bailing him out of it."

"So you're going to Cleveland?"

"Have you got any better ideas? We need the kid. He's a material witness to Angela's kidnapping and he saw the guy running the show. We jumped to conclusions, thought it was Anton Sevarius and didn't follow through with a sketch artist. Now we have our chance."

"When you're right, you're right," Elisa admitted. A frown marred her face and tempered her excitement. "The Captain will want to go through channels. She'll never approve you going to Ohio in person." 

Matt, in the process of re-knotting his tie, paused. "You're right." He coughed dramatically and pressed a hand against his forehead. "I don't feel so hot all of a sudden. I think I'm going to have to take a night off." He gazed speculatively toward the castle. "Do you suppose Mr. X. will lend me one of his corporate jets?"

Elisa handed her partner his jacket. "I don't know. Why don't we ask him?"

* * * * *

****

Later That Day

"Pie?" Fraser said without looking up as Matt threaded his way to the back of Joe's Diner and slipped into the booth across from his temporary partner. "The apple is good."

"No, thanks." A waitress appeared almost as soon as Matt settled into the booth and he declined both Fraser's offer and a menu simultaneously. "Just coffee. I've got to get over to the airport. I've been called out of town on an emergency. You said you had new information?"

"Straight to business then." Fraser shoved his empty plate toward the waitress. She filled Matt's cup, picked up the plate and retreated to an adjacent table to take an order. "Yeah. Lilith Ling. I knew there was something about that name that rang a bell. So I ran the usual checks but I also asked a few of my colleagues from Behavioral if they knew anything about her."

"Anything interesting?"

Fraser didn't use a notebook, just recited from memory. Matt suppressed a smirk as he noted the FBI agent's tie of the day: another geometric print at first glance that revealed itself on closer inspection to be winged pigs. He made a note to ask his counterpart where he shopped once they weren't hip deep in case files. "Scholarship student at the usual eastern prestige schools. Wrote an article during her postgraduate days at Harvard that ruffled a few feathers. Topic: the right of scientists to step outside the realm of societal laws if it's for the greater good. Then nothing for a couple of years."

"Probably got her hand slapped for daring to say what her colleagues felt," Matt suggested.

Fraser's lip quirked as though the agent were amused. "Probably. Anyway, we don't hear from her much until after she leaves Cambridge. Then her career gets interesting."

"How so?"

"She's ambitious. Jumps straight out of academia into industry and talks her way into a lead research position at a top pharmaceutical house. They're working with psychotropics. Which as you may know, are drugs that affect brain activities associated with mental processes and behavior."

"Yeah I know," Matt replied. "Anti-psychotic, anti-depressant, anti-anxiety and hypnotic medications. Turn on the TV, they're everywhere. It seems like half the population is taking them and the other half ought to be. I'm sure lots of people have had a hand in getting them to market."

"True enough," Fraser conceded. "But not everyone was using nursing home patients as their guinea pigs."

Matt's gaze narrowed. "And Ling did?"

"Yep. There was a flap in Chicago. It caused a congressional investigation. She escaped charges, but just barely. Seems that even though she designed the study, she was smart enough to get someone else to sign off on it. So another slap on her wrist and she's off again."

"Where to this time?"

"California and school children. Woman has a thing for using drugs for behavior modification and she seems to like institutional settings as laboratories. Class rooms, nursing homes, she was involved in a study two years ago involving a prison population."

"This is interesting, but what's it got to do with our case?" Matt wondered.

"Think about it," Fraser said. "We know they were doing some kind of cloning research. A clone is a _tabula rasa_. The ultimate blank slate. Sure, it's got the physical characteristics of its parent, but the mind? There's nothing there, nothing but basic instincts waiting to be programmed. If you were Ling, could you resist the opportunity?"

Matt gave the agent a skeptical look. "Uh yeah, if you're talking science fiction movies and clones grown to adult size in test tubes. Our science is years away from that. Read the newspapers, so far all they've managed to do is clone a sheep that acts like a sheep. Neat, yeah, but not all that exciting."

Fraser leaned forth conspiratorially. "Are we really? There was some interesting equipment recovered from that lab in New Jersey. Our people in the science unit are going crazy trying to figure out how some of it was used. I'm betting Ling is growing full on clones and stashing them someplace so that she can test out some of her more controversial theories."

"What kind of theories? Just what has she been up to?"

Fraser pulled a slim line briefcase from underneath the booth, snapped it open and retrieved a disk. "Here. I put it on disk to protect it from coffee spills." He winked at Matt and the detective scowled back. "Ling's published work over the last ten years. She wants to change the world one personality at a time."

Matt accepted the jewel case enclosed disk and contemplated it thoughtfully. "Not that I'm saying it's impossible," he prefaced, "but she's a behaviorist, not a geneticist. Don't you think she'd have a partner in this mix somewhere?"

Fraser shrugged. "Possibly. Probably even. She's never been involved in anything controversial where she couldn't shift the blame elsewhere. It's part of her M.O. But we don't have any proof of a second party this time."

"So why don't you just arrest her?" Matt asked. He toyed with his spoon and ignored the cooling cup of coffee. Matt had been right about Fraser, the agent was no dummy and he was willing to think outside of the box. "If all that was going on down there then she must have violated some federal statute and you could use her to get to any others."

"Not enough evidence. And what we do have is circumstantial." Fraser shook his head. "Nah. We can't move until we have something more." He slapped some bills down on the table and got up. "Let's keep pushing her, Matt. She's up to something. I can feel it."

* * * * *

****

Castle Wyvern, Evening

Elisa sagged against the common room wall and took a deep breath. She had made the rounds of the castle in a futile search for Angela, cursing herself the whole while for oversleeping. She'd been caught in another bout of strange, abstract dreams that had left her skin tingling and her senses on edge. The dreams felt uncomfortably familiar and while they may have been a result of her recent head injury, Elisa had more than a mild compulsion to nerve up the courage to ask Fox if her rest was similarly disturbed.

Instead, she sought Angela. Elisa hadn't had the chance to apologize after the debacle of an interview. And though Ptah made his observation to promote his own self-serving agenda, their unwelcome guest was right about one thing, Angela was acting more unstable as the nights passed, not less. She needed to talk to somebody to get her head straight about her ordeal.

She pushed off against the wall, found she could stand without her knees threatening to give way and walked through the gathering area out onto the courtyard. A thunderstorm was building out on the horizon and the wind was up. It whipped at her hair as she scanned the cityscape.

Elisa was rewarded for her efforts by the whoosh of wings high overhead. She looked skyward. Lexington and Delilah glided above her head, circling the castle in playful chase. Delilah wagged her finger at the kite-winged male who pursued. Even from her vantage point Elisa could see that Lex was taking the admonishment as a challenge. He reset his wings and dove, cutting underneath his mate and grabbing her by the waist.

Elisa looked away from the intimate moment drawn back to something from her dream. In it she had been the one on the wing seeking… something.

The fragment skittered away before she could grasp a hold of it. Irritated, Elisa opened her eyes. In her reverie she failed to notice that Delilah and Lexington had landed and were approaching.

Elisa affected casual tones as she asked, "Hey guys, good patrol?"

Delilah gave her a frustrated shake of the head. "We had no luck spotting false Angela," she reported.

"Yeah, and even the crooks seemed to be taking the night off," Lexington added. "It was a complete waste of time."

"Some nights are like that," Elisa commiserated. "Are the others due back soon? I was hoping to have another talk with Angela."

"Angela won't be back tonight," Delilah said. "Broadway was going to escort her to Destine Manor after they finished patrolling. She told us Andrea wanted to use morning light for one of her new paintings so she was planning on staying the day."

Elisa frowned. "Angela told you this?"

Lexington nodded, confirming his mate's information. "Yeah, she mentioned it during dinner. Why?"

"Something's not right," Elisa muttered. She strode into the common room and went straight to the telephone. She dialed, tapping her foot impatiently as she did so. After letting the phone ring for nearly a minute she hung up. "No one's home and the answering machine is off. Plus, Matt told me today that Jeannie has been trying to get a hold of Andrea for the last couple of days." Elisa fell silent for a second before asking. "Where's Broadway now?"

"He should be on his way back. Unless he stopped at the Labyrinth." Lexington replied.

"Can you check?" Something was off. Elisa felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand.

Delilah nodded and lifted the radio transmitter that hung around her neck to her lips. "Broadway, come in."

There was a space of silence and the crackle of static. She started to repeat the call when the object of their search entered the room. "You guys need me for something?" He seemed tired and more than a little subdued.

"Yeah, Broadway, I was looking for you," Elisa replied. "How's Angela tonight?"

The burly gargoyle frowned, worry plain on his moon-like face. "She was pretty quiet tonight, Elisa. She barely spoke to me the whole time we were out." He paused. "It's like she was somebody else."

The wrong feeling grew more intense. Still unwilling to jump to any conclusions, Elisa kept her tone calm as she asked, "Lex, Delilah could you go do that vacation check we were just discussing?"

"Vacation… oh, right," Lexington said as he clued in to Elisa's meaning. "And if the parties aren't there?"

"Then we have a problem."

The telephone rang. Elisa returned to the small alcove that housed the instrument and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Finally." Matt pressed the cell phone closer to his head to try and block the noise from the thunderstorm beating overhead. He was racing in through the streets of Cleveland with Danny and Jeannie in tow. The storm was tracking to the southeast and he hoped, by the time they reached the airport and Xanatos's private jet, out of their flight path. "Elisa, I've got news."

"Matt? Where are you?" 

"Cleveland. On my way home. Look. I've got news. Big news." The phone went silent. Matt tapped it against his palm as a trailing cell unleashed multiple thunderbolts. The limousine, courtesy of the local Xanatos Enterprises subsidiary, hit a pocket of water and slipped on the pavement. Jeannie gave him a wide-eyed look and Danny gripped at the handhold as he braced against the upholstery. 

"Sorry about that," called the driver, a black suited woman in her twenties. She adjusted her chauffeur's cap and hit the accelerator even as she snagged an incoming call off the radio. She exchanged several coded phrases earning more curious looks from Jeannie.

The former djinn was quiet. Emotionally overloaded since Danny, her halfling charge, had been arrested earlier in the day for selling newspapers without a vendor's permit, she had settled into a state of submissiveness soon after Matt's arrival. She had watched as he strong-armed the Cleveland police, something she dared not do given her own somewhat tenuous claim on her identity, stating his need for the youthful offender as a material witness was greater than their need to earn a few lines of ink in the hometown press. She had allowed him to arrange their affairs, checking them out of the budget class motel they'd been calling home since their arrival in the Midwest and hustling them into the big car with its efficient driver.

"That was the pilot. He said the airport has cleared you for takeoff as soon as you arrive. Seems like most people have canceled their travel plans so you don't have to worry about delays on the runway."

"Thanks," Matt smacked his phone again. "Now if I could just do something about this cell phone service." He hit redial and Elisa picked up before the first ring. 

"Matt? Is that you? We were cut off."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry. Weather, I think." He wasted no words fearing a repeat of the cut off. "Elisa, you were right. Sevarius is alive."

"I knew it," she said fiercely. "But why the reversal? New information from -"

"No." Matt cut her off before she could say the name. "He had a meeting this morning near Public Square. Danny recognized him and snooped from a safe distance." 

He gave the kid a look and the halfling shrugged back. "Hey, I would have given you his entire nefarious scheme, but Jeannie's only taught me a 'be normal' glamour, not invisibility."

The former djinn shook her head tiredly. "I can't teach you to be invisible, Danny. I can only teach you to be inconspicuous, but it takes time."

Matt ignored the by-play. "It seems he has enhanced hearing." 

"That's great!" Broadway wandered out of the television room and opened the fridge. Elisa shook her head at him and waved him over. She put one hand over the phone. "News," she whispered to the burly gargoyle before returning her attention to her partner. "Any idea as to his whereabouts?"

"No luck there. Danny overheard him calling a cab company before he was arrested." The phone went silent again. "Elisa?" Matt shouted.

"Ouch. Yeah, Matt, I'm here."

"I've called Fraser in on this. He's checking the airports and train stations." The limo pulled into the airfield and moved smoothly towards a row of private jets. The one at the end had its running lights on and a yellow suited flight crew swarming over it. The big black car stopped and the driver got out. "We're here. I don't know what you can do with the information, but I thought you should know." The phone cut out again. "Elisa?" 

"Matt?" Elisa raised her voice and tried again. "Matt? Gone." She hung up the phone. 

"What did Matt say?" Elisa blinked. She looked up having temporarily forgotten Broadway as she attempted to reconnect with her partner. 

"It seems reports of the good doctor's death have been somewhat exaggerated," the detective reported. "Sevarius is alive."

* * * * *

__

To be continued…


	5. Part 5

****

Home is a Dark Place, Part 5

Written by: Madame Destine  
Email: m_destine@hotmail.com

****

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters belong to their various creators: Buena Vista Television / The Walt Disney Company and The Gargoyles Saga, and they are used without their express knowledge or consent.

* * * * *

__

Previously…

"What did Matt say?" Elisa blinked. She looked up having temporarily forgotten Broadway as she attempted to reconnect with her partner. 

"It seems reports of the good doctor's death have been somewhat exaggerated," the detective reported. "Sevarius is alive."

* * * * *

"Points for originality, Ptah," Brooklyn muttered as he watched from the shadows. "You say you hear a noise. I say where. You throw a rock and when I turn to look, you bash me on the head. You could claim that someone else did it, except I saw you palm the chunk of concrete off that restaurant rooftop. So now that I've conveniently let you escape, what are you really up to?"

He peered through the tiny space of clearing that opened onto a baseball diamond. Ptah was fifteen yards away near the home side bleachers. The elder gargoyle seemed both resolute and agitated, as if he'd come to some major but dangerous decision. 

Brooklyn watched as Ptah pulled a cell phone from his belt pouch and pressed buttons. When Ptah turned his back he inched several yards closer, being careful to remain upwind. 

Ptah shot a furtive glance over his shoulder and began to speak rapidly.

Brooklyn craned closer and wished for a directional microphone, but after several seconds he decided he didn't need it. Ptah was unused to the nuances of the cell phone and his voice carried.

"Van Winkle," he said dropping all of his usual flowery mannerisms." It is no use. The clan has closed itself against me. They will not willingly surrender the egg."

Brooklyn's lip curled. "Pay dirt." A noise distracted him. He sniffed. Human. He scanned the park. Behind him on the bridle path that looped the playing field was a gray-suited jogger out for a late run. He returned his attention to Ptah. 

"I have tried all means," Ptah was saying. "I have tried reason. I have tried emotional appeal. I have petitioned based on honor and tradition. Nothing works."

Another silence. Ptah's hood flared in reaction to Van Winkle.

When he replied his voice was sad, resigned. "I understand. Yes, it will be tonight."

Ptah fell silent listening to the reply. The steady footfalls of the jogger grew closer. There was motion to his left and Brooklyn looked over his shoulder and frowned. "Not now!" he protested as three young toughs broke cover. 

The jogger froze as the three muggers circled. He threw up his hands. "I haven't got anything." His voice quavered with nerves. "If I did, it'd be yours."

"No duh," said the obvious leader of the trio. "But we're just gonna check for ourselves."

The other two toughs moved in and Brooklyn sighed. The second thug made a grab for the jogger's hands and pinned them behind his back. The third was preparing to move in when Brooklyn made his play. "You don't want to do that, boys."

The leader sneered as his compatriots continued to frisk the jogger. "You lied," said the third as he extracted a money clip from their victim's pocket. From his voice he couldn't have been more than twenty. 

"It's just my I.D. and some cab fare for, you know, emergencies!"

"Well what do you call this?" asked the second thief, archly.

"Come on, boys," the leader said. "We have places to be."

"You got that right," Brooklyn snarled. He kept his gun racked on his back. With the jogger already in hostage position he didn't want to escalate the situation any more than he had to. He stood tall and flared his wings and hoped physical intimidation would help him turn the trick. 

"Oh! The big bad gargoyle wants to play," the third said in mock horror. 

"Yeah, well he can play with this." Before Brooklyn could react the leader of the gang pulled a gun and fired several times in rapid succession. 

Bad call. The sound was soft, unremarkable really. Kid must have used a silencer, Brooklyn thought to himself as a spot on his thigh and a second high on his wing began to burn. He dove forward and grabbed the jogger away from the muggers. His momentum pushed them into the trees on the other side of the path, and they tumbled into an ungraceful heap at the foot of an oak as the thieves took off laughing.

The jogger scrambled out from under him and knelt at his side. "You're hurt."

The human's voice seemed far off as Brooklyn's body began to react. He glanced at his right wing. The shot had left a neat hole that stung like the devil. His chest hurt, but he couldn't find the source. He shifted his gaze to his left leg and touched gingerly at the back of his thigh. The bullet had gone through and through and the wound was bleeding freely. If he didn't stop that quick he'd pass out. "Yeah. Give me a minute. Spare bandana?" the gargoyle asked as he pressed a palm against his leg. 

The jogger gave him a blank look and then fumbled in his sweat suit pockets. He pulled out a faded blue and white square of cloth and handed it to Brooklyn. "I should call someone. The paramedics." Before he could protest the jogger had sprinted away. 

Brooklyn bound his leg and then stood, finding his legs shaky but usable. He palmed the communicator at his wrist, but got nothing but static for his effort. Either it was broken or he was in one of those persistent dead spots that seemed to pocket the city. It didn't matter which, he was cut off from the clan. "Ptah," he remembered at last. But when he limped his way back to the baseball diamond, the old gargoyle was gone. 

"Way to go, Brook old buddy, conked on the coconut and shot in the same night. Maybe you need a vacation." He looked down at his leg. The bandage was soaking through, but it seemed the bullet had passed through muscle and missed the important veins and arteries. He'd live. The echo of a siren began to scream in the distance. He perked up for a second and then realized he didn't have time to wait. With a grimace and a silent apology to his would be benefactors he began to climb the nearest tree for the glide back to the castle.

* * * * *

"Elisa. Elisa come in. Over."

The knot in the detective's stomach tightened as the radio receiver hanging from her neck squawked at last. She had spent thirty long minutes feigning nonchalance in front of the television waiting for Lexington's call while suspicion gnawed away at her gut like a pack of hungry rats.

The detective bolted from the couch out of the television room while Broadway looked on with curiosity. Bronx, with Cagney curled on his back, lifted his head at her sudden movement, but soon joined the cat back in slumber. Elisa stepped around the lounging pets. As she stepped into the common room she slipped the headset from her neck and into proper position. "I'm here, Lex. What did you find? Over."

The hiss and crackle of static gave way to the high-pitched rasp of the cybernetically enhanced gargoyle. "You were right. The house is locked up tight. The lights are on but no one's home and there's a package from an art supply house sitting here on the front porch, addressed to Andrea. The tag says it was delivered the day before yesterday. Over."

Elisa frowned at the unwelcome news. "I was afraid of this."

"Afraid of what, my Elisa?" Goliath entered with Hudson in tow. There was a disgruntled meow as Cagney was displaced and Bronx trotted out to greet the clan elder. Elisa ignored the pets and drew Goliath aside as Hudson went to the stove and put on the kettle.

"Elisa? What do you want us to do?" Delilah queried. "Over."

"Sorry," she replied quickly. "Return to base. Hurry. Over and out."

"Is something the matter?" Goliath frowned with concern as Elisa pushed the headset away from her mouth and tugged him down the hallway towards his office. She waited until they were both inside and then closed the door.

"Goliath we have a problem," Elisa said softly. "Maybe more than one. Matt called in a little while ago." She told him about the storm-interrupted conversation and then waited for her mate's reaction. On the whole, he took it quietly.

Goliath scowled. "I thought you said the Illuminati confirmed the doctor's demise."

Elisa shrugged. "Yeah, well it turns out even they can make mistakes. Our eyewitness was Danny, the halfling. He can tell you about it himself in an hour or so. Matt said they were nearly airborne right before we were cut off."

Goliath sat behind his desk, shuffling idly at a stack of Angela's press clippings. "I cannot say that I am surprised by the news. Sevarius seems to have an uncanny ability to remain unscathed. You are convinced that he is behind Angela's kidnapping?"

Elisa nodded and closed her eyes briefly. "And that brings us to the problem." She took a deep breath, wishing there was some other solution that made sense to her. "I'm not sure you rescued the right gargoyle from that New Jersey warehouse."

Goliath looked up at his raven-haired mate and wondered how she had arrived at such a strange conclusion. "You did not see Angela when she was recovered, Elisa. If you had, you would not make such a statement."

Elisa shrugged, running her hands through her hair in a frustrated exclamation. "Maybe I am wrong, but something's not right. Angela told Lexington and Delilah that she was spending the rest of tonight and tomorrow with Andrea. But Matt told me that Jeannie has been trying to get a hold of Andrea for several days. When I asked Lex to swing by the manor and check, he reported the place was locked up tight. And before you ask, she's not answering her radio either."

"Why would Angela lie?"

"I don't know. Unless, like I said, it's not Angela. Think about it, Goliath," Elisa exclaimed. "In a way, it's the perfect way to throw us off the track. What if the reason we can't find the fake Angela is because she's right under our noses?"

"For what purpose?"

"I can't answer that," Elisa said frankly. "I've tried. The only thing I can come up with is Angela has more access then the rest of you. She can slip in and out of the castle and Demona's operations too. If someone were looking to steal secrets, there isn't a better burglar than a high-profile gargoyle that no one is willing to prosecute."

Goliath picked up a clipping of Angela taken at the art museum unveiling. She looked so proud. So happy. She was his daughter. His. How could he have been fooled not once but twice by an impostor? And if he had, if they all had, did that mean that Angela was still the captive of the mad geneticist or worse? "No, Elisa, you must be mistaken. Angela was injured badly by her captors. I doubt even Sevarius would subject one of his own agents to such brutality, even to garner sympathy."

"But it would work, wouldn't it?" Elisa persisted. "Who would dare question her? And if her behavior was a little off, it would be chalked up to the head injuries. Look, Goliath, I'm a cop, or at least I was -" She smiled ruefully, and her mate frowned in return. "- and I'm supposed to go by facts, not feelings. But something doesn't feel right here." She shook her head. "I wish I could put my finger on it, but I can't get over the feeling that Angela is still in trouble."

Goliath sighed ponderously. There was another explanation. It was possible that Elisa in her desperation for closure of the frustrating case was grasping at straws. Angela could have a perfectly reasonable explanation for both her radio silence and the deception about her whereabouts. "What do you propose we do?" he asked after a long pause.

"First we need to find her," Elisa said promptly. "Then we need to test her. Find out who she really is."

Goliath nodded. "That seems a reasonable course of action."

Elisa repositioned her headset, preparing to recall the rest of the clan. "We should tell the others. The clone used Lexington once to try and get information. It's possible that she might try again."

"Agreed." Goliath replied as he rose from his chair. Perhaps there was a way out of this that would satisfy Elisa and prove that she was mistaken in her supposition. Perhaps if he distracted her long enough, Bluestone would bring fresh information that would alleviate her suspicions and give her a new trail follow. He only needed a little time. "But not that way. We do not want to alert Angela to your suspicions. We will notify the others as they come in."

Elisa gave her mate a doubtful look then pursed her lips. "You're humoring me," she said flatly. "I don't believe it."

"Elisa. I -"

"No," she replied, her voice rising sharply. "It's true. You don't believe me."

Goliath crossed to Elisa's side and attempted to put an arm around her shoulders. She ducked away from the embrace, refusing to be placated. The gargoyle stepped back, allowing Elisa space to pace angrily instead. "I believe you are worried about the clone still being on the loose. I believe that you have grasped a hold of this notion of a double substitution and it makes sense to you in a way that it doesn't to me. I believe," he said, his voice quiet despite his upset, "that you will not be assuaged of your doubt until you prove to yourself Angela is not an impostor. I am willing to let that happen, but I will not alarm the rest of the clan in the process."

The phone buzzed. Goliath growled at the interruption. He swept the receiver up in one massive hand and put it to his ear without breaking eye contact with his frustrated mate. "Yes."

"Goliath. This is Fox. I need to talk to Elisa. Is she there?"

"Just a moment." He held out the receiver. "It's for you."

Elisa snagged the phone away from her mate, unwilling to touch him even accidentally. "Hello?"

Fox wrapped her dressing gown more tightly around her. She'd decided to take a quick nap prior to getting ready for a late business meeting and she'd had the strangest dream yet. There was such urgency behind it she felt she had to do something. Lacking any good ideas, she had picked up the phone. She drew a deep breath and feigned her normal casual tone. "Elisa, it's Fox. I know this is going to come out of the blue, but I just had the weirdest dream and it's not the first, if you know what I mean. I've been having them every time I go to sleep. Daytime, nighttime, it doesn't really seem to matter lately. I really just need to know: are you still having weird dreams?"

Elisa's hand spasmed and she nearly dropped the receiver. She turned her back to Goliath and inched toward the wall as she replied softly, "What kind of dreams?"

"Oh, you know the kind," Fox replied. She attempted to keep her voice light, but there was no masking the agitation. "You. Me. Angela. Dungeons. Chains. Fun. Games. Kind of like before, but there's more of an edge to them. You know, like there's some kind of hidden meaning, but someone forgot to send the decoder ring."

"It's not just me." Elisa took a deep breath. "I knew there was something strange going on. Do you get the feeling that Angela is in some kind of trouble?"

Fox paused. Considered. "Yeah, she does seem to be the damsel in distress in most of these scenarios. Do you suppose it's just an aftereffect of her kidnapping? Maybe I should work some counseling into her schedule."

Elisa shook her head. "Maybe. But maybe there's something more to it. I think Angela is trying to contact us."

"Elisa," Goliath rumbled disapprovingly.

Fox shivered inexplicably. "What do you mean? If Angela wants to talk to either of us, all she has to do is open her mouth."

"I don't think so, Fox." If Goliath wouldn't believe her then maybe the lady of the castle would, Elisa thought desperately. "I think Angela is still a captive somewhere. I think somehow the clone has taken her place again."

"Elisa, that's enough." Goliath reached for the phone and tried to take it from Elisa's hands. They wrestled for the instrument and after several fierce seconds Goliath won. "Fox, Elisa is not well. I'm afraid that the strain of the last several days has finally taken its toll."

"Goliath, I'm not mental!"

Fox shook off the overwhelming sense of worry that had plagued her. She had been working way too hard lately and with all the recent upsets around the castle, she was on edge and overreacting. Maybe it was time to take David and Alex away for a few days out of town and really relax. "It sounds like I called at a bad time. Look. Tell Elisa to forget it. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar and a dream is just too much pizza before bedtime. Is there anything you need?"

Goliath eyed his impassioned mate. Perhaps this wasn't the easiest outlet, but she had been clearly disturbed by recent events and she needed some way to vent her emotions. He would ride out this storm with her. "No, we will manage. Thank you." He hung up the phone.

Elisa gave him a savage look and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Goliath sighed. He took half a minute to marshal his own agitation and followed. There was no telling where Elisa's sudden conviction would take her next. It was a short walk. She was in the common room facing off with Broadway. Lexington and Delilah stood to one side, evidently having just delivered their findings in person to the burly gargoyle. He was shaking his head in denial as Hudson looked on with concern.

"Elisa, you're wrong about this." Broadway looked as frustrated as Goliath felt and Elisa had only been out of sight for a matter of a minute.

"Then where is she?" Elisa demanded. "Why isn't she with Andrea?"

"I don't know. Maybe they decided to work someplace else. Doesn't Andrea still have a studio someplace?"

"Then why would she tell you she's been at Destine Manor?"

"I don't know. Why are you giving me the third degree?" Broadway said harshly. "You tell me that my mate isn't who she says she is, and somehow it's my fault for not knowing?"

"We know she's a good actress," Elisa said, trying to placate. "We've all been taken in."

"No one's that good," Broadway said with finality.

"Hey, we heard yelling," Graeme said as he, Arianna and Sata, followed by Nudnik, entered from the courtyard. "What's all the hubbub?"

"The hubbub," Broadway replied, "is your Auntie Elisa has gone off the deep end."

"Broadway!" protested several voices as Lexington, Delilah, Goliath and Sata expressed their dismay at once.

"Lad, that's no way tae talk," Hudson admonished.

"Children, perhaps you should go and meditate in the arboretum," Sata said. "I will be along in a little while."

Neither of the younger gargoyles protested as they threaded their way through the angry adults and out of the room, the beasts in tow.

"Now, Broadway, would ya care to explain your harsh words," the elder said.

Broadway opened his mouth for another angry tirade, but before he could speak Brooklyn said weakly from the doorway, "A little help here?"

All eyes turned toward the tired and bloody gargoyle. Sata rushed to her mate's side and assisted him to the bench. She gently prodded the neat hole in his wing, and waited impatiently as Delilah fetched the first aid kit from the storage cabinet.

"How did this happen?" Goliath demanded as the others assessed the Second's injuries.

Brooklyn closed his eyes for a minute, glad to be home. The wing had held during the short glide from Central Park, but the pain from the gunshot thigh had been fierce, even for a gargoyle. "I was in the park. There was a mugging. When I tried to break it up, one of the little punks got trigger-happy." He shrugged. "Just another night in the Big Apple." He closed his eyes again as antiseptic was applied to wing. "Hey, that reminds me, has anybody seen Ptah?"

There was a general murmur of negatives as Sata indicated that her mate needed to stand. "We must get him to the infirmary." Off the others looks of concern she added, "He will heal with treatment and rest. Goliath-sama and Broadway, I will require your assistance getting him there."

Brooklyn allowed the others to link their arms around him and provide support as he shakily regained his feet.

"This isn't over, Goliath," Elisa said as they followed Sata out of the common room.

Goliath paused and turned. "Yes," her mate and leader pronounced. "For now it is."

* * *

Elisa stood with her arms folded over her chest, fuming, as Goliath made his pronouncement. "How dare he?" she asked, forgetting that she was not alone in the room.

"He dares, lass, because he's leader and those are his decisions to make," Hudson replied gently. "Now why don't ya sit down, you're gonna overexcite yourself."

Lexington and Delilah nodded in general agreement. "I will make tea," Delilah stated as she went to fill the kettle.

"I will not sit down," Elisa said, continuing to vent her frustration. "And I don't want tea. We know that we have an impostor running loose. We know that Angela is in danger."

"Yeah, but we don't know where either one of them are," reminded Lexington.

"And, we have no proof this is the false Angela," added Delilah. "You must have more proof."

"You're right," Elisa admitted, as the logical portion of her brain finally made itself heard. "We need a plan."

"You know -" Lexington's wide, lamp-like eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "- when Angela comes back, we could put a tracer on her. It wouldn't answer any of our questions about where she's been tonight, but at least we could keep an eye on her until this thing is resolved. "

"But what if she doesn't come back?" Elisa countered. "It's a good start but we need to do more." She did sit down at last, leaning against the central table and masking her face with her hands. "All right. Set up the bug." She dropped her hands. "Hey. Why didn't I think of that? There's no way you could make it a radio transmitter, could you?"

"I don't follow," Lexington said. "You mean like a one way receiver?" He shook his head. "I don't think so, not for the kind of range we need in a tracking device. But I'll talk to Owen and find out."

He started to exit and as Delilah turned to follow he shook his head at his mate. She nodded and returned to the kitchen counter, putting together a tea tray despite Elisa's earlier protest.

"Lexington was in a hurry," Matt commented as he entered with Jeannie and a teenage boy Elisa felt she should recognize in tow. "Is something going on?"

"That depends on who you ask, laddie," Hudson replied.

Matt gave the old gargoyle a quizzical look before turning his attention to his partner. "Was that a yes or a no?"

"Brooklyn was shot and taken to the infirmary," Delilah clarified bluntly. "Sata said his injury was serious but not life threatening. Before that, we caught Angela in a lie. She is supposed to be at Destine Manor but she's not. Goliath and Elisa disagree as to what this means. Elisa thinks Angela is still a captive and false-Angela is still among us. Goliath believes she is wrong." Oblivious to the sharp looks rendered by Elisa and Hudson, Delilah offered the new arrivals a place at the table and a cup of tea.

As they awkwardly took their places Matt asked, "Elisa, how are you holding up?"

"I'm hanging in there, even if that is the minority opinion." She sat up straighter and pushed her hair back away from her face. "So this is Danny?"

The teenager had hung back away from the others and still stood leaning against the doorway. He took a nervous step forward. "Uh, yeah. Hi. You tried to help me out at the bus station. I heard you got hurt pretty bad. I'm sorry about that."

Though her memories were a trifle hazy, Elisa nodded as she got a distinct memory of the kid, panicked out of his mind, engaged in an energy battle with an enraged Angela clone. "It wasn't one of my better nights," she said at last. Delilah set a steaming teacup down at her elbow, which Elisa ignored as she returned her attention to her partner. "So what did you find out in Cleveland?"

"That's really Danny's story," Matt replied.

Elisa regarded the boy. His elfin ears and shaggy sandy hair gave him a disarmingly innocent demeanor, but his eyes had seen much and they were already hardened. "Okay, so pull up a chair or a wall, whatever makes you happy, and tell us what you saw."

Danny nodded. He tugged at the edge of his tee-shirt and snuck a quick look at Jeannie for approval. The petite woman nodded back at him and gave him a quirk of a smile. "It's okay, Danny, they want to help us."

"All right. It's like this. Ever since we've been in Cleveland, Jeannie goes out every morning early." He gave the former djinn another look as if seeking permission. She gave him another nod and he continued. "Jeannie's different, she's not a halfling like me. She's a djinn. We call 'em genies." No one seemed overly surprised. "Jeannie's people were exiled a long time ago. That's how they all ended up in bottles granting wishes. She's trying to find them so they can go home."

"What does this have to do with Sevarius?" Elisa said impatiently.

"I'm getting to that," Danny replied. "It's like this. Jeannie lost most of her powers, but she still has enough to do the seeking spell, the problem is it's kind of touchy. The conditions have to be just right. The first time she tried it she went to Lake Erie and nearly fried herself. So after a couple of days of recuperating she tried again, this time with a much smaller body of water. There's this park in town. They call it the Mall. It's green, but nothing like Central Park. Much smaller, but then again everything in Cleveland is."

"Anyway, so in the Mall they have this fountain and it's got a big brass statue in the middle of a girl standing on a globe reaching for the sky. Jeannie thinks it's perfect. So she gets out her candles and feathers and stuff and starts chanting. Well, after a while I get bored, and go for a walk. That's when I see him. Dr. Frankenstein himself." Danny paused and took a breath. "He's got his head down and he's moving like he's in a big hurry. So I take a quick look around, 'cause my first thought is wherever the Doc is, Candy and the rest of her crew are sure to follow. But he's alone. So I decide to see what he's up to."

"Go on, Danny, you're doing fine," Matt said.

The boy toyed with the tip of his ear for a second. "Right, well here's where I screwed up. I had some change in my pocket. Not much, but enough to open the newspaper rack. I grabbed a stack of papers so it looked like I had a reason to be hanging around the park. Jeannie's taught me this glamour so I can kind of alter my looks - nothing fancy, I can't do much more than make my ears normal, but it's enough so I don't get hassled in public. I get close as I can. Dr. Freakazoid is on his cell phone setting up a limo ride to the airport. He still doesn't see me, I'm just part of the crowd. Then this guy with a towel on his head and an expensive suit comes up and buys a paper from me and heads over towards your guy. They start talking. But before I can get more than a comment about the weather, this big old flatfoot grabs me by the scruff of the neck and hauls me in." Danny shrugged. "That's pretty much it."

"Nothing about why he was there or what they were up to?" Elisa queried.

"Nah, sorry. I couldn't get close enough, and I didn't have time before the cop grabbed me anyway. All I can tell you is that he was very insistent that the limo get him to the airport in time for his flight. He said he had unfinished business he had to get back to. That's all."

"So Angela goes missing and Sevarius is in a hurry, "Elisa said, thoughtfully. "It sounds like something's about to break."

"Yeah, but what, Elisa?" Matt asked. "I put the local police to work tracing Sevarius as soon as Danny told me what he'd seen. They've got a good sketch artist and they circulated the picture to the cab companies, limo services and airport reservation desks. Special Agent Fraser on this end is doing the same. Sevarius is part of the official investigation now. Maybe you should just sit back and let us take things from here."

"That's fine, Matt," Elisa said as she got up from the bench. "Just suppose they catch Sevarius. What do you suppose will happen to Angela? Officially, she's not missing. So if they find a gargoyle locked up in his lab, do you suppose that they'll just let her go? You've got the Feds involved in this. How do you know they won't lock her up in some government research lab and throw away the key?"

Delilah and Hudson shared a worried glance as Matt opened his mouth to rebut his partner's argument. He shut it knowing she was right. There were still those who argued vehemently that gargoyles needed to be studied further for everyone's safety before they were granted any protections under the law.

"Somehow we've got to find Sevarius and Angela and get there first," Elisa concluded. "But the question remains: how?"

* * * * *

****

New Jersey

Angela howled in agony as another powerful shock coursed through her body, the current forcing her spine to arch painfully as the muscles contracted. Eyes burning red, she dropped to her knees, straining against the chains that bound her as electricity tingled over her skin.

Jezebella counted three blinks of the little yellow light on Angela's collar before she removed her thumb from the corresponding yellow button on the remote. "This is getting boring," she said, her tail lashing with agitation. Jezebella stooped down as Angela slumped back onto her haunches and seized the joining chain of the captive gargoyle's manacles, shaking her roughly. "Don't you agree, sister?"

Angela bared her fangs and pulled away, eyes blazing anew. "Impostor!" she hissed. "Stop calling me sister!"

"Silly fool." Jezebella shoved Angela back against the cell wall and drew herself upright. "You're too damned stubborn for your own good, Angie." She held up the remote again and thumbed a red button. "It's going to be the death of you yet."

Angela winced, bracing herself for another painful jolt, but this time no shock came. Instead, she simply heard a soft click and the leather strap about her neck began to constrict. Angela's eyes went wide with sudden fright. She made to cry out, but all that escaped her lips was a ragged gasp as the collar cinched steadily tighter, strangling her. She gazed up at the clone in stunned shock, but Jezebella only grinned wickedly, returning a look that chilled Angela to the marrow.

"How do _you_ like it, sister?" she taunted. "Who's the weak one now, hmm, Angie?"

__

By the dragon, what is she talking about? Angela tried to raise her hands to her throat as reflex demanded, but the shackles stopped her short. Unable to gain relief, she fell forward onto all fours, struggling fitfully to suck in air as the pressure increased. _She's insane… trying to kill me!_ Angela closed her eyes and fought to control the rising panic, but nothing her mother had taught her had fully readied her to face a moment like this. The pain only grew as the seconds ticked by. Before long, her lungs were burning with need and tears were rolling freely down her cheeks. _Hurts too much… can't… breathe!_ Angela felt lightheaded. She tasted salt water.

"Ready to cooperate yet, dear sister?" Jezebella's tone was cool and casual, and Angela blinked her eyelids open as a taloned hand cupped her chin. The clone's face was inches from her own, the pale light from beyond the cell bars reflecting in her dark eyes. Jezebella stared at her intently, waiting for an answer, her expression a strange mixture of disgust and pity. 

Angela's lungs were on fire, the pain nearly unbearable yet horribly familiar. She was drowning, suffocating, but this time there was no icy, watery embrace to numb her to the awful sensation as there had been at Loch Ness. Nor was there anyone around who could dive in and save her. She was alone, and her survival now hinged entirely on winning Jezebella's mercy. A fresh wave of tears flooded her eyes as Angela summoned all the strength she could muster. Surrendering what little was left of her pride, she nodded fiercely to the affirmative. 

Jezebella removed her hand from Angela's chin and rose, a broad, toothy smile spreading across her face. At long last her stubbornly spiteful sister was admitting defeat. It was a momentous occasion, and Jezebella wanted to savor the special moment for all it was worth. She reveled in her triumph, unable to resist drawing out her twin's suffering for a few seconds longer. "Are you sure, Angie?" she asked mockingly. "Speak up."

The bound gargoyle's eyes flashed crimson with anger and desperation. "Yes," she mouthed soundlessly, nodding again with frantic eagerness, "please!" The exaggerated motions brought additional discomfort as the stiff leather collar dug cruelly into her already tender skin. She grimaced in pain, a pleading look dancing in her sunken, tear-rimmed eyes.

Jezebella chuckled wickedly. "That's what I thought." She lifted the remote then paused, regarding the distressed female carefully for a silent moment longer before tapping the red button a second time.

Another soft click and the collar loosened, abruptly releasing its terrifying stranglehold on her neck. Angela gasped out stale air and sucked in breath greedily, chest heaving against the chains encircling her. As the fire in her lungs subsided, she collapsed the to floor, panting and coughing. Jezebella was watching, but Angela didn't care. She closed her eyes, ignoring the clone for the moment and focusing instead on taking the deep, slow breaths necessary to keep herself from hyperventilating.

__

She has a strong will, but you've humbled her. She knows you're in charge now. Jezebella lingered just inside the barred cell door, smiling smugly as she waited for her sister to catch her breath. _And all it took was pushing this one little button,_ she mused, examining the remote she still held in her talons. _It was almost too easy, actually._ Jezebella's smile dimmed as she contemplated just how simple it would have been to stand there and allow Angela to be choked into unconsciousness. Just a half minute more might have put her into a coma. A full minute might have spelled her death. _But so what?_ the angry voice in her head argued. _She left you to die the same way. It would be poetic justice!_ Jezebella shook her head. _No!_ the more rational half of her conscience protested. _You're better than that, Jezebella! You're better than her! And besides, you still need her help, remember?_

"Yes," Jezebella whispered. "You're right. I need her alive." She paused, considering her options, and slipped the tiny remote into her belt pouch. _You've got her mate. You've got her egg. That's all the leverage you need._ "Yes," she whispered again. "I have leverage."

A few yards away, Angela slowly pulled herself back into a sitting position. She had recovered her breath, but her bruised neck throbbed under the collar in time with her heartbeat. As she perked up her ears, though, and noticed that Jezebella was muttering under her breath, she set aside any worry over how badly injured she might be. For now, she reminded herself that she was lucky to simply still be alive. Angela pulled her feet in beneath her, taking care not to let the chains jangle on the concrete as she eyed the clone warily and tried to make out what she was saying.

"I can make her tell me everything. She'll do anything to save her precious egg." 

Angela's insides twisted. _My egg!_ She bowed her head and squeezed her eyes closed, concealing the red glow that flashed in them from Jezebella's notice. In her strangled panic, she'd nearly forgotten that her unborn hatchling was in just as much danger in Jezebella's hands as she herself was. Angela struggled to keep listening. Jezebella was speaking in low tones, pausing and replying to comments that evidently only she could hear. _She's talking to herself,_ Angela realized. _By the dragon, she really is mental!_

Angela sank back against the wall, suddenly chilled by the thought that Jezebella's bizarre delusions of a past they supposedly shared might be the result of more than just some twisted programming authored by Anton Sevarius. Jezebella had seemed unstable from the get-go, but if she was genuinely turning psychotic then there was no telling how dangerous she could eventually become. Just one small push in the wrong direction could set her off again. Angela swallowed hard, suddenly wishing she hadn't reacted as violently as she had when Jezebella had intruded into the cell fifteen minutes earlier.

"You're still keeping secrets from me!" Jezebella had begun the conversation without preamble, rousing Angela from her meditative state with the enraged accusation and a sharp slap to the face. Angela had recoiled from the blow, Elisa's needlework slipping from her talons as the rude interruption shattered her focus, but Jezebella was too impatient to wait for Angela to get her bearings. The clone grabbed her double by her chains, hauling her to her feet and slamming her against the iron bars. "I want answers, sister," she spat. "Now!"

Angela's head spun dizzily as the fragile threads of her magic unraveled. She was still reeling as she angrily bit back, "No! I'm through answering your insane questions!" A sharp backhanded slap left her tasting blood. Angela's eyes went red as she tensed, pressing Jezebella away. "Damn you! Leave me alone!"

"Fine," Jezebella had said, hurling her toward the opposite wall. "I can see you want to do this the hard way, Angie." Angela grunted as her shoulder impacted the concrete, but she barely had time to stagger back. A split-second later, the first shock had sent her convulsing in agony. 

"You must understand, sister, I don't want you dead."

Angela blinked back to the present and looked up to find Jezebella standing over her once more. Thankfully, her hands were now empty, the tiny remote control no longer anywhere to be seen. That alone emboldened Angela somewhat, but thinking twice this time she held tongue, returning only a questioning gaze and keeping the retort of, "You could have fooled me," to herself.

It was unnecessary for Angela to voice the words. Jezebella seemed to read them in her eyes. The clone smiled casually. "Oh, don't get me wrong, Angela. I _do_ want to see you to suffer as I have suffered, and in time you may come to _wish_ you were dead. For right now, though, I'm inclined to be kind as long as you remember your place and do as you're told."

"And why should I believe you?" Angela asked, finally daring to speak.

Jezebella shrugged. "Because you have no other choice. Unless, of course, you enjoy being tortured… or you _want_ to see your egg shipped off to Egypt.

"No!" Angela replied. A bit too quickly she realized belatedly by the smirk that played across Jezebella's lips. _Play along, Angela. It's your best chance to regain control of the situation._ The internal voice took on a tone oddly reminiscent of her mother's voice. _Look for weaknesses and ways to gain her trust, and don't do or say anything to tick her off again._ Falling back on her training, Angela forced her emotions to the side and attempted to project a calm demeanor. "No, Jezebella, I don't want that," she said. She kept her voice level and drooped her head submissively, hoping the gesture would placate the clone.

"So you will do as I say and answer my questions?"

Angela gritted her teeth and thought of her egg. "Yes."

"Prove it to me, sister." Jezebella extended her leg, placing a taloned foot before the kneeling gargoyle. "Kiss it, Angie. Kiss it and swear on the life of your egg that you'll be a good girl from now on." 

Angela looked up at the clone in utter shock. Surely she was joking! But no such luck; the look on Jezebella's face was cold and deathly serious. Angela hesitated. Saying 'no' wasn't even an option. She couldn't back down now and risk sending the already agitated clone into another rage. But still, something told her not to give in so easily, without making Jezebella concede something, too. "If I do this," Angela asked quietly, "will you promise to keep my egg safe?"

Jezebella raised a brow ridge at the bold request. "I will," she said at length.

The chained female drew a calming breath. "Then I promise," she said slowly, "on the life of my unborn hatchling, I will do as you ask." 

__

By the dragon, she's actually doing it! The wicked smile on Jezebella's face spread from ear to ear as Angela gently placed her lips to the arch of her foot. _The silly fool really **will** do anything for her precious egg!_ Jezebella resettled her wings, giving a self-satisfied smirk as Angela sat back on her haunches and resumed a submissive, eyes averted posture. "Good girl, Angela," she intoned imperiously. "You finally _are_ learning." 

Angela nodded. "Yes, sister. I am." She kept her eyes on the floor, all the better to conceal the worry that played over her features as she wondered if she was doing the right thing. Jezebella had been appeased for now, but how long would it last?

"So now that we gotten that settled -" Jezebella lifted Angela's chin with her tail, forcing her twin sister to meet her eyes. "- let's have a nice little chat, shall we? Just between us girls."

* * *

"All right, Anton, I'm here." Dr. Lilith Ling strode into the room, scowling. "What do you need to show me that's so terribly important that it couldn't possibly wait until I was done in the lab?"

Dr. Sevarius sat with his back to the door, watching the security camera feed from Angela's basement cell two floors below. He did not turn to acknowledge Ling, nor did his eyes leave the screen. "We seem to have a problem downstairs, doctor."

Ling's frown deepened as she spotted the image on the black and white monitor. "Jezebella," she muttered. "For goodness sakes, Anton, this is the second time she's been down there in three nights. Angela isn't supposed to have visitors. I thought you'd made certain that she understood that." Ling gave an exasperated sigh. "This casual disregard she has for my work is becoming intolerable. I can't very well begin to study the effects of long-term social deprivation on gargoyles if Jezebella keeps traipsing down there for midnight chats, now can I?"

"No," Sevarius replied, "but that little side project is not the issue I'm most concerned about at the moment." He touched a button on the arm of his chair and a time-stamped recording of the security feed from a few minutes before replaced the live image on the video screen. 

Ling crossed her arms and reluctantly quieted as she watched the playback. As Jezebella tormented Angela with the shock collar, she raised an eyebrow but showed little other outward emotion. When the captive gargoyle fell to her knees, however, gasping desperately for breath with eyes bulging as the collar slowly choked her, Ling's hand trailed up to her own neck in empathy. The dark-haired woman swallowed hard and cleared her throat. "Ah. I see."

"Do you now?" Sevarius pushed another button that ended the brief prerecorded show and turned around in his chair. "Tell me, Lilith," he said. "How is it, do you suppose, that Miss Jezebella got her talons on one of these?" He reached into the breast pocket of his lab coat and held up the small remote to Angela's collar. "There are only two, after all, and I have mine right here."

Worry flashed in Ling's brown eyes and her hands went instantly to her pockets. Keys. Pen. Loose change. Parking claim ticket. Breath mints. Her expression grew more perplexed the deeper she dug. Her remote was missing!

Sevarius read the panicked confusion in the behaviorist's eyes and scowled. "That's what I thought."

Ling glared a back at him with a withering gaze. "I had it on me when I arrived tonight," she protested. She withdrew her hands and thought quietly for a moment. "I stepped out to use the restroom about an hour ago. I left my lab coat on the back of my chair. Jezebella must have come in and stolen it while I was gone." The woman thought a moment more. "That's the only explanation that makes sense. Serves me right. I _did_ program her to be a thief."

"Yes," Sevarius replied. "Of course, you were also supposed to _re_program her so that she would not find our lovely guest such a distraction to her work." He gave another glance at the security monitor, eyeing the image of Jezebella standing proud and haughty over a cowed Angela.

Ling's eyes narrowed. "I could have removed _all_ of Jezebella's memories of her 'sister,' but that would have made it more difficult to switch them without tipping off the gargoyle clan that something wasn't right." She shrugged. "Without doing a total memory wipe, Jezebella was bound to get curious eventually. My guess is that she decided her 'twin' knew something that could help her further her mission."

"And to convince Miss Angela to cooperate, she also decided it was necessary to apply merciless and repeated torture?"

Ling ignored the man's sarcasm, shrugging again. "You and I both know how stubborn that girl can be. Jezebella is programmed to be many things, but patient is not one of them. If Angela tried to play the same games with Jezebella that she did with us, then that's her mistake. She got exactly what was coming to her."

"Perhaps." Sevarius didn't sound convinced. Jezebella had come within seconds of killing Angela, and that was the aspect he found most troubling. While the girl had not been able to supply him with useful information about Sector 13, she still had intrinsic value both as a research subject and as insurance in the event anything went wrong.

"Still, I can bring her back into the lab and give her a follow-up treatment if you think it's necessary," Ling offered. "A refresher session would only take a few hours. Of course, if you can spare her for a whole night, I could make her forget about her 'twin sister' entirely." Ling pondered the possibilities. "She could go back to believing she really is Angela, secretly working for us as mole."

Sevarius considered the idea for only a moment. "No. We're running out of time." He rose from his chair, his expression taking a determined set. "Continue with your preparations for treating the halflings. I will take care of getting Jezebella back on track."

Ling nodded and a moment later she was gone. As the door closed behind her, Sevarius frowned thoughtfully. He had not lied, as time was indeed running short. He had reviewed the files that Jezebella and Candy had brought him from Nightstone, but he still did not have all of the technical information he needed to replicate the neural interface Ms. Destine's scientists had created. Luckily, though, his last-minute decision to fly to Cleveland and meet with the Sheik over brunch had borne fruit in the form of a possible back-up plan. The man was interested in securing the sole rights to his services, and the sum of money being offered if he would forsake his other bidders was substantial. He hadn't given the wealthy Arab a final answer, though. If he could make his delivery date, the potential was still there to make quite a sizable profit without tying himself down to a single employer.

"I can give her one more night," he mused, making up his mind at last. He would have a little talk with Jezebella and give her a final chance to come through with the goods from Nightstone. And if she failed, he would cut his losses and accept the man's offer.

* * *

"I keep telling you, Jezebella, I don't know how the spell works. It's been years since the last time she used it, and Mother doesn't share the secrets of her magic with me." Angela fixed her clone with what she hoped appeared to be a sincere, honest gaze. "You'll have to ask Demona. Tell her you want to accompany her to the office again. She's always after me to take more interest in her work. I'm sure she'd be thrilled."

Jezebella stroked at the braided end of her ponytail, chewing her lip as she considered Angela's reply. The human Angela Brigitte Destine was but an illusion made possible by her mother's sorcery. The explanation seemed reasonable enough, but it was too bad it wouldn't help solve her current problem. It might be days or even weeks more before Dominique Destine returned from Paris. The virus-tainted letters Anton had sent through the mail had sickened much of her staff, and the sudden lack of manpower had forced Demona to travel overseas. 

It was ironic, really. Anton's plan to draw Demona away and make it easier for her to get inside Nightstone had actually made it just that much more complicated. Still, a guided tour of the building might be well worth the wait, Jezebella mused. And she could hardly see fit to pass on what sounded like a sure-fire way to ingratiate herself with Demona, either. "You really think so?" she asked.

Angela nodded. "Yes. Mother would love it if you were to ask." She watched the clone carefully, trying to gauge her reaction, but Jezebella was proving to be a very difficult person to read. Her mood had already changed dramatically from what it initially had been only a half hour earlier. In minutes, she had gone from enraged bordering on murderous to contemplative and almost friendly. As Jezebella made queries into what Angela knew about the photos she had found in Demona's office, however, the vivid memory of nearly being choked to death kept Angela alert and wary.

She was choosing her words carefully, doing her best to appear cooperative and not cause any further unbalance to Jezebella's apparently fragile mental state. That was the tricky part, Angela had realized, for that same lingering threat of instability that made being in close confines with Jezebella so frightening was also the clone's biggest weakness. If she could supply her false twin with just enough of the truth to make her start asking odd questions back home, perhaps she would become frustrated enough for her temper to manifest in front of Demona or the clan. If Angela could set things up to make that happen, the chances of the others recognizing Jezebella as an impostor and coming in search of her might increase significantly. 

"I think I might enjoy it, as well," Jezebella commented. "I'll have to keep that in mind for when Mother gets back from her business trip." 

Demona was away on business? When had that happened? Angela's growing hopes of rescue sank at the news. "When will she be back?" she asked.

Jezebella's eyes narrowed. "What does it matter to you? It's not like you're going to be there to welcome her home." The clone crossed her arms, scowling down her nose at the kneeling female. "Remember your place, sister, and your promise."

"I'm sorry," Angela stammered. She bowed her head, quickly feigning contrition. "Forgive me, sister." Inwardly, she growled. _Damn it, what did I say wrong?_

"I'm the one who's asking the questions here," Jezebella warned. "I ask and you answer. It's quite a simple concept."

Angela kept her head down and her mouth shut. It would be better to wait until the clone addressed her with a new question before speaking again, she decided, rather than risk provoking her further. After a long moment of silence, though, she hazarded a quick glance up. She found Jezebella pacing the narrow width of the cell, her tail twitching in agitation. And though it was hard to tell in the dim light, she appeared to be muttering to herself yet again. 

Abruptly, the clone turned, catching Angela looking before she could drop her gaze back to her lap. Jezebella stilled, her eyes taking on a predatory cast that sent an arctic chill trickling down the edges of Angela's bound wings. "Tell me, sister," she said at last. "Tell me about you and Fox."

"Me and Fox?" Angela blinked, genuinely confused. "Okay," she began slowly. "What do you want to know about us?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Angie." Jezebella moved a step closer and eyeballed her twin disdainfully. "I know you two have been doing a whole lot more together than just rehearsing for your silly little TV appearances and magazine interviews. The way Fox was looking at me the other night gave it all away."

Angela shifted uncomfortably in her chains. "Surely you're not implying that Fox and I…" She left the sentence uncompleted as her double's lips curled into a leering smirk.

"Oh, please. Spare me the 'but I'm a good girl' act, sister. I of all people know you better than that by now. Under that sugary sweet exterior, you're a nasty, naughty little slut." Off Angela's shocked expression, she went on. "You can't fool me, Angie. Deep down, I know you've got a wild side just like mine. You're just too embarrassed to admit it." Jezebella shrugged. "It's not like it surprises me. Fox is quite a hottie for a human. Living together under the same turrets… all that pent-up curiosity… I suppose it was probably bound to happen eventually." She smirked. "Like mother, like daughters, no?"

__

Where is she coming up with this stuff? Angela shook her head in protest. "No, Jezebella. It's not like that. You must have just misunderstood -"

"I understand everything perfectly, sister!" she hissed back. "Stupid bitch, don't even _try_ to lie to me! You and Fox have been sneaking around behind your mates' backs, screwing each other senseless every chance you get. Why else would she be lurking around my perch, waiting for me to wake up just so she can get all warm and flushed telling me about a dream she's had about you?" 

Angela gaped in shock, a bizarre image of the redheaded woman, collared and gagged, flickering briefly before her mind's eye. "Fox had a dream about me?"

"Oh yes," Jezebella replied. "She said that it had reminded her of the last time the two of you were together." Jezebella crossed her arms and cocked her head to one side, looking mildly annoyed. "I didn't get to hear the details. That big lump you call your mate came along, damn him, and once she saw him, Fox couldn't get out of there fast enough."

Angela ceased listening as Jezebella continued to rant. Her thoughts were in a whirl. She'd spent the previous night in a deep trance, focusing every ounce of her magic on trying to contact Elisa. By the time stone sleep had finally claimed her, she had been utterly exhausted, and peaceful meditation had given way to a restless daytime slumber filled with strange dreams. Angela closed her eyes, struggling to pull the scattered, nonsensical images back to the surface. A gray cat in a crooked red and white striped hat. Herself in chains and collar, locked in a tiny upright cage. Elisa, inexplicably attired in a skimpy maid's uniform, freeing her. The last clear image was the oddly irreconcilable one of Fox standing before her, bound and gagged, green eyes wide and pleading. 

Angela blinked again and shook her head. If she had dreamt of Elisa and Fox, and Fox had also dreamt of her, could that mean the three of them were again sharing dreams as they had once before? _"She said that it had reminded her of the last time…"_ Jezebella's words repeated in her head, sending a shiver down the apprentice sorceress's back. Angela had blended magic and meditation in a desperate attempt to reach out to Elisa on the astral plane. In her haste, she hadn't even considered the possibility that her efforts might have the side effect of reawakening the link Maeve's spell had forged between them. Restoring the old triad had not been her goal, yet now it seemed she'd succeeded in making Fox party to the dreams, as well.

"The biggest problem, of course, is the awkward situation your dalliances have created for me. Secret trysts with the Mistress of Castle Wyvern were not something I'd anticipated having to deal with. I'm almost positive Fox expects them to continue, but I'm a very busy girl right now." The clone smiled. "I've only got so much time and energy to spare, sister, and Broadway wants my attention, too. I'm sure you can see my dilemma."

Angela's eyes narrowed as the clone's meaning sunk in. _She's baiting you again, Angela. Don't fall for it. Think! There's always a Plan B, remember?_ The bound female bowed her head, staring once more at her chained hands as she mustered her best poker face. She had a new idea, and if it worked, Jezebella would be revealed as the fraud she was before sunset, undone by her own delusions and a little reverse psychology. 

At least, Angela hoped so. Drawing a final deep breath, she lifted her head, fixing her double with a darkly defiant gaze. "You can have your fun with Broadway, sister," she intoned, "but you keep your filthy talons off of Fox. She is _mine_!"

* * * * *

****

Later That Night

Candy stood quietly just beyond the glow of the force field emitters, watching the chained gargoyle who knelt motionless near the back of the small cell. Her pointed ears twitched as the floor creaked overhead. Furtively, she checked over her shoulder, but the hallway behind her was still dark and empty. Candy frowned. Enhanced halfling senses were a curse sometimes. She was already jumpy, and every little noise the old building made was making it worse.

She wasn't supposed to be down here. No one was. Sevarius had told her so days ago. Angela was to have no visitors, and the detention area was off-limits at night. That evidently hadn't stopped Jezebella, though. It hadn't been more than a few hours since Candy had overheard the good doctor angrily berating his adopted gargoyle daughter for violating the prohibition and wasting her time on Angela when she should be working on her mission. Jezebella had not taken the correction well. She had done nearly as much shouting as Sevarius before finally storming out. "I'll make her see how serious I am," she had said. "You just wait, doctor. You'll see!"

Candy really wasn't quite sure what Jezebella had been talking about, but that in and of itself had become something of a theme lately. The girl was upset with her sister, that much was apparent. The reasons why, though, had never been clearly explained to her. Originally, she hadn't cared. Preparing the chains and a special cell for Angela had been a pleasure unto itself, and no other reward beyond knowing that she'd be doing her part to make the annoying little she-demon miserable had been necessary. Now, however, Jezebella's wild mood swings were really starting to scare her. If she was going to keep working with her, she wanted some answers. Even if she had to get them from Angela.

The halfling woman crept closer, peering through the cell bars. Angela still had not moved. In fact, she almost appeared to be in a trance. She was resting on her haunches, ankles crossed and palms pressed together as if in prayer, clasping a small piece of fabric. Her head was partially bowed and her eyes were closed, and her face was expressionless, her mouth a thin line. Candy felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle as she drew nearer. There was a strange energy present in the air, but it wasn't just that of the force field. She sensed magic. Mortal magic.

"Oh my god… she's a sorceress!" Candy's eyes went wide with the whispered realization. But what was the girl doing? Was she casting a spell? She edged closer, curiosity overcoming hesitation. As she concentrated, she could almost see the shimmering aura of magic that surrounded the bound gargoyle, but she was helpless to divine its purpose. It didn't seem threatening, but after a moment Candy decided she didn't want to take any chances.

"Hey, gargoyle!" she yelled. Her shrill voice shattered the fragile silence. "Wake up!"

She was surprised when, rather than startle to alertness, Angela simply opened her eyes. For a long moment, the gargoyle just stared at her, the same calm, non-telling look upon her face. "What do _you_ want?" she said at last. Her tone was so icy it sent a chill through the air. "Have you come to beat on me, too?"

Candy found herself momentarily speechless. "No," she answered after a pause. A dozen witty retorts strangely evaporated as the girl stared at her with those dark, emotionless eyes. "I just wanted to ask you some questions. About your sister," she added.

Angela rose gracefully to her feet, disturbing hardly a link of the heavy chains that fettered her wrists and ankles. "You mean Jezebella," she replied. "This will be simple, then. She's not my sister."

Candy recoiled slightly, uncertain that she'd heard right. "What?"

"Jezebella is not my sister. She's a clone." Angela shook her head sadly at the blonde woman's shocked expression. "That's okay," she said, shrugging as much as the chains allowed, "I really didn't expect you to believe me, either."

"No, gargoyle, wait." Candy reached over to the control panel on the wall, pressing the button to turn off the force field before the constant background hum became totally intolerable to her sensitive ears. The invisible barrier gone, she closed the final gap and moved to within inches of the bars. "I came here because I wanted to hear your side of the story."

Angela eyed the blonde halfling skeptically. The last time she'd been face to face with this woman had been in battle, and she'd made her hatred of gargoyles quite clear. So why now was she suddenly interested in talking? Was it just a trap to set her up for another round of cruel tortures?

"Look, gargoyle, are you gonna tell me what you know about Jezebella or not? I don't have all night to stand here. Sevarius will have my ass if he catches me talking to you." She gave a quick glance up and over her shoulder at the security camera. The good thing about Angela's habit of not moving around much in her cell was that it made faking the feed with a looped recording relatively easy. Still, she didn't want to press her luck any more than necessary with such a low-tech cat burglar's trick.

The woman's anxious behavior was enough to convince Angela that Candy was not here to play games. "Okay," she said. "I'll talk to you, but I'm not really sure I can offer much insight. I'd never even met Jezebella until the night I was brought here..."

Candy listened quietly for several minutes as Angela related what little she professed to know, but what the woman heard only left her shaking her head in bewilderment. "Wait, hold on. What you're saying doesn't make any sense."

"It's the truth," Angela insisted. "Regardless of what she's told you, Jezebella was never a member of my clan, and she is not my twin, either. Fraternal twins are almost unheard of among gargoyles, but identical twins… I'm sorry, it just never happens."

"So all of her memories of you are just a big lie?" Candy asked incredulously. 

Angela sighed in frustration. "Yes. That's what I've been trying to explain. I don't even know what Jezebella believes I have done to her. I wish I did, because at least then I could understand why she hates me so. But whatever it is that she's got in her head about me, none of it ever really happened."

Candy raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Yeah, right. She just dreamed up that tired old sob story of being betrayed by her bitch of a sister all on her own, just to win my sympathy." 

The sarcasm earned Candy a dark glower from the caged gargoyle. "Aren't you paying attention? She's a _clone_. Sevarius and that woman who's working with him, they _programmed_ all of Jezebella's memories. She believes only what they _want_ her to believe. They told me…" Angela hesitated and paled slightly, uncertain whether to share her next thought.

The same sense of disquiet that Candy had felt while watching Ling work on Jezebella the night of her return gnawed once more at her gut. "What?" she prompted.

Angela drew a shaky breath and lay her hands on the cell bars, pulling herself close as she lowered her voice. "They told me they could make her do anything they wanted, and that soon they would be able to do the same to anyone else… including me."

Candy regarded the captive female carefully. Despite her chains and nudity, the girl had so far carried herself with a quiet dignity that Candy might have been tempted to admire had Angela been human and not gargoyle. Now, however, the creature's composure seemed ready to shatter. Candy edged away a tiny bit as the gargoyle curled her taloned fingers around the narrow bars that separated the two of them. Iron bars, she couldn't help thinking. The kind that she dared not touch herself with an ungloved hand.

"Please," Angela begged. "You have to help me. I know what I've told you comes as a shock, but I swear on my life it's the truth. Jezebella is becoming more dangerous every night. We both know it. You wouldn't have come to speak to me if you didn't see it, too."

"Yeah, she's a real Jeckyl and Hyde lately," Candy replied. She edged back further, crossing her arms as a barrier against the gargoyle reaching out and possibly touching her. "So what? Even if everything you say is true, it changes nothing for me." The retort felt hollow even as it left her lips, but it was the worried look in her eyes that betrayed her as she locked gazes with the girl.

"Are you sure?" The question was already echoing in Candy's head as Angela gave it voice. "Sevarius has been using Jezebella all along. Can you really be sure now that he isn't just using you, too?"

Candy made a face but did not reply. The more she thought about it, the more she was starting to wonder if the girl was right. It made her feel angry and sick all at the same time. 

"Please, I'm begging you. I fear for my clan and my egg in the rookery. I have to keep Jezebella away from them."

Candy eyed Angela disdainfully. "Why the hell should I care about your clan?" she snapped back. "Bad enough you winged freaks are reproducing. Fuck that, gargoyle. I've got my own people to worry about." 

She started to turn away but was forced to halt as something snakelike looped about her ankle and held her fast. Candy looked down to find Angela's tail coiled about her leg. The halfling's eyes flashed green as she turned her glare upward, but the desperate, pleading look on Angela's face, looking so much like Jezebella's expression had on the night she'd returned wearing the handcuffs, stopped her short of going into a rage. 

"Please! If you'll help me, I promise that I'll help you and your friends. I know it hasn't been easy for any of you these past few years, but if you will trust me… give me a chance… maybe somehow I can find a cure, or at least a safe place for you all to stay until one is found."

"A safe place?" Candy parroted. "You mean like Sector 13? No thanks, gargoyle." She kicked her leg free of Angela's tail and reached for the force field control. The energy barrier sprang back up just a split second behind Angela's fortuitously quick withdrawal of the appendage back to her own side of the bars. "I'm insulted. You actually think I'm stupid enough to let you out of a cage just so I can end up in one?"

Angela released the bars and growled. "No," she protested, "that's not what I meant. Please, you must believe me. I would never turn you over to Xanatos to be locked up in stasis or used as a soldier." Angela trembled, recalling the stories Danny had told her of his training. The teenager had been certain he was being groomed to eventually become some kind of super spy, and she was determined not to see that happen to any more halflings if she could have anything to say about it. She had to get home first, though. "There are others who have the power to help," she added. Her thoughts swung desperately to the Lady Titania. Perhaps if she made a plea to the Seelie Queen on the halflings' behalf, they might be afforded refuge on Avalon, where neither Xanatos nor Sevarius could reach them. "I'm willing to try if you'll only help me escape!"

Halflings used as soldiers? Candy frowned, blocking out the sound of the gargoyle's continued pleadings as she reconsidered everything that had happened in the two weeks since Jezebella had infiltrated the Eyrie Building. Why was Sevarius currently in need of a neural interface from Nightstone when before he had wanted to liberate the halflings from Sector 13? Why was he still delaying on beginning the treatment that would restore her and the others to fully human if it was ready to go like he had said it was? And what was Dr. Lilith Ling's part in all this besides playing nursemaid to Jezebella?

__

"…they programmed all of Jezebella's memories." Angela's words came back to her as she pondered Sevarius's true motives. _"They told me they could make her do anything they wanted, and that soon they would be able to do the same to anyone else…"_

Candy shivered. Suddenly, she wasn't so sure that what Sevarius was planning for her and the others was as benevolent as he was making it out to be. There was a way to find out, of course, but it was risky. Riskier, even, than what she was doing right now by visiting the prisoner. She could sneak into Sevarius's office later on, after he went to bed, and find out what was really going on. Maybe she could even find out what had precipitated the doctor's sudden decision to take an early-morning trip to Cleveland.

Thinking about it again only added to Candy's confusion. She had been dropping off the files she and Jez had appropriated from Nightstone when she had overheard him making the last-minute travel plans. It had struck her as odd then, and it still did now. What could be so important that Sevarius would waste over six hours flying all the way to Ohio and back and when he was already grumbling about being pressed for time? The halfling woman shook her head, sparing only the briefest glance back at the imprisoned gargoyle as she turned to go. _If Freakazoid's already working on Plan D or E,_ she mused, _maybe it's high time I started making a Plan B of my own._

"Wait! Please?" Angela quieted, but stood staring into the darkness beyond her cell long after the woman had left. Blinking away a tear, she gave a small sigh. Though she had figured all along that making an emotional appeal to the female halfling stood only a remote chance of working, it still hurt to accept the reality of another setback. After taking a moment more to regain her composure, Angela settled herself back onto the floor and recovered the scrap of embroidery from where she had left it. She would resume her meditation, and she would continue to pray that her earlier performance would prove enough to be Jezebella's undoing. But no matter what happened, she resolved as she closed her eyes, she would not give up hope.

* * * * *

"Insolent bitch!" Jezebella removed her belt and shed her sister's hated tunic, hurling the garments to the floor. With an angry growl, she strode to the massive oak cabinet and flung the doors open. "How dare she tell me what I can and cannot have!" she seethed. "I'll show her once and for all that everything she once called her own now belongs to me. Everything!" 

Jezebella's nostrils flared as she perused the limited selection of clothing in Angela's wardrobe. Sevarius had interrupted her conversation with her sister only seconds after Angela had turned catty. He had led her away and taken from her the remote that she had borrowed from Ling's jacket pocket, prevented her from delivering any more lessons with the shock collar. It was no matter, though. There were other ways Angela could be taught and tormented. Dawn was still hours away. She still had plenty of time to make good on the threat and lay claim to the one remaining thing that Angela valued nearly as much as her egg.

"Fox will like this one," she decided. Pushing aside the outfit she had kept from the _Blush_ magazine shoot, Jezebella instead selected a flowing gown made of a nearly translucent baby blue satin. A minute later found her before the mirror, smoothing the soft material into place over her hips. Turning slightly to the side, she smiled, admiring the way the garment's bodice hid nothing at all when the light hit it at just the right angle. "Oh yes," she mused, "this will do nicely." Jezebella undid the bands holding her ponytail in place and shook her head, freeing her long sable tresses and smiling all the more as they cascaded wildly over her shoulders. She paused only long enough to adjust the placement of the decorative hair clip over her right ear before her fanged grin became predatory. "Perfect," she whispered.

In a short while, Angela's secret playmate would become hers. And afterwards, she would return with the woman's scent upon her and prove to her sister conclusively that there was _nothing_ she possessed that was beyond her reach. Jezebella chuckled softly at the thought as she turned to go. "Time to go catch me a pet Fox, Angie," she whispered.

* * * * *

****

Castle Wyvern, Residential Wing

"Welcome home, Mrs. Xanatos. How was your evening?"

Fox stepped out of the elevator, sparing a small smile for the omnipresent majordomo. "Tiring," she replied. She handed off her wrap to the blond man and shrugged the thin gold chain strap of her handbag from her shoulder. "The next time the Foundation needs a replacement speaker on a half a day's notice, Owen, remind me to say 'no.'" 

"Of course, Mrs. Xanatos."

Fox slipped off her heels as she checked her watch. "I'm guessing David and Alex aren't back yet. The show we were going to see only ended twenty minutes ago." She frowned, still annoyed how the long-anticipated family night she'd been planning had been ruined by the unexpected call from Preston Vogel. The Xanatos-Renard Foundation was co-hosting an event with the Women's Business League, and they had suddenly found themselves short one keynote speaker. It was too late to get anyone else, and after much hard consideration she had grudgingly accepted the assignment. So instead of spending a relaxing evening with her husband and her son, she had spent two long hours trading chit-chat and phony smiles with a roomful of businesswomen that she hardly knew.

__

How did my life become so complicated so fast, she wondered as she bent to pick up her shoes. Between tending to her duties on the boards of Cyberbiotics, the Foundation, and P.I.T., she'd had enough trouble finding time for herself and her family. Now she was trying to manage Angela and Broadway's growing media careers, as well. How much longer would it be before she would be unable to spare even a half hour to sit with her son and listen to him giggle his way through _Fox in Socks_? 

"I'll be in the master suite." Fox's voice was distant, and she barely noticed Owen's nod of acknowledgement as she rose and moved off. David had shared her frustration over the change of plans, but they had agreed immediately that rather than disappoint their son, one of them should still take Alex to see the show he'd been looking forward to. At first, David had even offered to be the one to speak at the dinner so that she could accompany Alex. Unfortunately, the Women's Business League had been insistent in wanting a female speaker. 

"Hmm. I suppose I could shave and let my hair down," he had mused, a smirk on his face as he stroked thoughtfully at his goatee.

The semi-serious look on his face had been enough to make her smile back. "I'd take you up on that offer, David," she had replied teasingly, "except I don't think I have anything in my closet that would fit you."

The recalled moment of humor brought a small smile to Fox's face. David had gone on to promise her that not only would he explain her absence to Alex so that he'd understand, he would also make the ruined evening up to her later. Fox shifted her shoes to the same hand as her purse as she arrived at the door to their bedroom and reached for the latch. She still wasn't sure what he'd meant by that last part, but she suspected that if she knew her husband, she was probably going to enjoy finding out.

Fox's eyes widened in surprise as she entered the room. The lights were already on but dimmed, and a fire crackled in the stone hearth on the long interior wall opposite the bed. The warm orange glow from the flames danced upon the walls, and the pleasant scent of burning wood filled the air. It put Fox in mind of midwinter, and her smile grew as she crossed to the nearby dressing table to deposit her purse. She glanced to the window, nearly expecting to see snow falling beyond the glass, but the drapes had been drawn shut for privacy. As if there was any great risk of voyeurs at one hundred plus stories in the air. Fox quirked an eyebrow in contemplation. "Well, other than the kind with wings," she mused softly.

The auburn-haired woman turned to the mirror over the dressing table. David must have arranged for this nice little scene to be in place when she returned, she concluded, and she couldn't help but feel a bit excited at speculating what else her husband had planned. She examined her reflection, suddenly wondering if she should change out of her businesslike attire and slip into something more fitting with the romantic mood. Fox reached up and removed the pins from her hair, freeing it from the loose bun she had pulled it back in earlier. She was shaking her head, restyling her long tresses with her fingers as a motion behind her, reflected in the mirror, caught her eye. Fox grinned and turned around, expecting to see David.

"Hello, Fox." Jezebella emerged from behind the canopy bed's lavish draping. Smiling prettily, she eyed the human woman who she had been quietly watching for the past minute from her place of cover in the shadows. With her hair let down, Fox looked positively radiant, clad as she was in an off-white silk blouse and short black skirt, with understated pearls adorning her ears. _No wonder Angela couldn't resist,_ Jezebella thought, already finding herself anxious to run her talons through that wild mane of auburn hair. "Welcome home," she purred. "I've been waiting for you." 

"Angela?" Fox blinked in disbelief, but the lavender gargoyle did not vanish like a daydream. She merely nodded, her fanged smile turning seductive as she moved a bit further into the light. Fox's green eyes grew large and round as Angela planted a four-fingered hand on her hip and posed enticingly. The girl's sable locks cascaded over her shoulders in broad, luscious waves, and she was wearing the same lovely gown that Fox had seen her return from Demona's in almost a month before. Only now, with the light striking at just the right angle, she looked impossibly more delicious in it than Fox had ever imagined she would.

Jezebella trailed a hand up her belly and over her bosom, thrusting her chest forward to give the human woman an eyeful of the hardened, dark purple peaks of her nipples that from her vantage point were clearly visible through the sheer, silky fabric. Fox seemed at a loss for words, and that fact only served to bolster her confidence and her growing sense of arousal. This was going to be her biggest conquest yet, and she wasn't ashamed in the least to discover that it was actually turning her on a lot more than she had expected. The sooner she made Fox hers, she mused, the better. Jezebella batted her eyes and ducked her head demurely. "I've been thinking about what you said the other night, Fox," she said. "I couldn't stop thinking about it, really. It's been too long since 'last time', don't you think?" 

Fox stared at the young female, incredulous. "Last time?" she murmured, uncertainty heavy in her voice. Her head was spinning, and she blinked her eyes again trying to be sure this wasn't just another fantastical dream. Yes, she still secretly harbored fantasies about Angela, but that was all they were: fantasies. She knew nothing would ever come of it. Not after what had happened the one time the two of them had accidentally found themselves in bed together for real. They'd been able to overcome that disastrous encounter, knowing that Maeve's dark magic had precipitated it as much as any of their own subconscious desires had. In fact, their relationship had grown stronger for it. They were mutual mentors. Trusted friends. Sisters, even, in the gargoyle sense of the word. But any chance of them ever becoming something more intimate than that - it just was unthinkable.

So why, then, was Angela now standing in her bedroom, wantonly displaying her charms and coming on to her like a streetwalker? Doing things she _knew_ Angela would never, ever do? Had her nighttime dreams become waking ones? Fox smoothed her skirt, discreetly pinching herself as her fingers brushed along the hem. The sharp pain chased away any lingering doubt. She wasn't dreaming, and that left only one explanation. A chill ran down Fox's back at the realization. Elisa was right. This gargoyle standing before her wasn't the real Angela.

"Yes," Jezebella said, "last time." She resettled her wings and brought herself a step closer to the human woman. Cocking her head to the side, she smiled devilishly as she curled her tail around and took the tapered end of it into her hands. "You remember how much fun we had," she said, gently stroking her talons along the tip of the serpentine appendage, "don't you, Fox?"

Fox cleared her throat. _This is too unreal,_ she thought, _but I can't just stand here. This is the clone. She knows where Angela is. I have to do something!_ Her mind spun feverishly. She could attack the impostor, but there was no telling how skilled a fighter the girl might be. And it had been years since the last time she had gone one-one-one, hand-to-hand with a gargoyle. _No, too risky,_ she mused, _it'd be better just to play along until I can surprise her or summon help._ There was a panic button on the bedside stand that would trigger a silent alarm. If she could get to it, she knew Owen would be there to investigate within seconds. Then they could subdue the clone together, and make her confess the location of the real Angela. 

Yes, she decided, that would be her plan. Fox put on a coy smile. "Oh yes," she replied, "I remember." Her mind set, she stepped forward, closing the final distance between herself and Angela's double. Fox accepted the hand the girl offered and gazed into her eyes. She looked so much like Angela, it was nearly impossible to make any physical distinction beyond the uncharacteristic hunger that burned behind those dark orbs. That look of lust betrayed her now, but she had successfully fooled them all for weeks. _She's an extraordinarily good actress,_ Fox admitted, _but I bet I can be a better one._ Her grin turned sly as she squeezed the clone's hand. "So what do you say, Angela? Shall we make some new memories tonight?"

Jezebella's heart skipped a beat. _Yes! This is it!_ her inner voice shouted happily. _Poor Angie's just going to die when she hears what you've done now!_ She smiled and nodded eagerly. "Let's do it," she breathed.

Fox offered no resistance as the girl turned and led her toward the bed. "Mm," she commented appreciatively as she took in the view from the rear, "that dress does look yummy on you. But then, I knew it would the moment I saw it in the store."

Jezebella turned again as they reached the side of the bed. "I like it much better than that ratty old tunic." She grinned and licked her lips. "I just hope I can find a way to fully express my gratitude for your having gifted me with something so nice."

Fox kept smiling, letting not a hint of anything show in her expression that would tell the clone she had just failed the final test. "I'm sure you'll do just fine, my dear." She squeezed the girl's hand again and sat down beside her on the edge of the mattress, deftly maneuvering into the place nearest the headboard so as to put herself within arm's reach of the nightstand.

Jezebella placed a hand on Fox's shoulder and drew herself close to her new playmate. Sniffing the air, she inhaled of the human woman's pleasant, perfumed scent, coupled with that of her own arousal. Soon their bodies and their scents would become one, and she would take the latter back to her imprisoned sister as proof positive of her conquest. Then Angela would finally see that her reign at Castle Wyvern was over, and her sister's had begun. Giddy with the thrill of her imminent triumph, Jezebella leaned forward and pulled Fox in for a kiss.

Their lips met. Fox kept the pressure light and teasing as she maneuvered herself within reach of the nightstand. She stroked at the impostor's hair and wings, letting her hands travel so that her motions might seem natural. She reached for one of several superfluous pillows as if to move it away, hoping to get to the blackjack concealed in the headboard as she leaned back, but the amorous gargoyle misunderstood her intentions, pushed her down against the bolster and deepened the kiss.

Fox fought the impulse to tighten her jaw and instead tilted her head back to allow the stranger access to her mouth. As the kiss intensified she kept her eyes open, studying her opponent. There was a feral energy about the clone that gave her pause. She abandoned several avenues of attack as the clone pinned her to the bed and began to tug at her clothing for better access.

Fox pushed her playfully away. "Naughty girl. What have I taught you about patience?" The clone opened her eyes and gave her a curious look. "You know I like to take it slowly when we have the time."

"And do we have time?" the clone asked as she began her amorous advance again.

"Well," Fox replied seductively, "there's never really enough time, is there, Angie?" She batted at the hand tugging at the buttons of her blouse. "See, there you go again, too impatient. I think Mama Fox is going to have to teach her naughty girl a lesson." She grabbed the gargoyle by the shoulders and pushed her down on the bed, reversing their earlier position. "Would you like that, baby? Shall I get out the cuffs and my special paddle? I'll tie you up," Fox said she trailed a fingertip down the side of clone's face and let it travel over the curve of her breasts and further down towards her belly. Underneath her the clone was starting to breath more rapidly as if she were enjoying the submissive posture. Fox smiled. Maybe she could get to the panic button yet. "And I'll spank you until your skin turns that delightful shade of lavender blue that gets me all hot and bothered. Then, just maybe, I'll take the gag out of your mouth."

The clone's eyes went wide. "Gag?" She began to buck and struggle and there was a definite glint of panic in her large dark eyes. "No! No, please! I don't want to play that game. Please, Fox. Can't we -"

Fox grinned down at the clone as she reached for the alarm. "Can't we what? Make love all slow and tender?"

The clone nodded hopefully, and began to stroke her tail against the soles of Fox's feet. Distracted by the soft tickling motion, Fox turned her head.

The clone used her moment of inattention to wiggle out of her submissive position. "Not so fast," Fox whispered as she struggled to regain her advantage. The pair tussled on the bed, the clone attempting to maintain her façade of playful seduction as waves of panic rode over her.

"Please, Fox," she said. "Just this time, won't you be gentle?"

Fox pinned the clone, pushing her full weight on her as she pressed one forearm against the girl's windpipe. "I don't think so."

The gargoyle's eyes went wide as the pressure against her carotid artery increased. "No!" she cried and bucked Fox away as claustrophobia threatened to overwhelm her.

She knew. By the dragon, somehow Fox knew. What had she said? What had she done? She hadn't beaten enough information out of her cursed sister that was for certain. But somehow she had given herself away, and the human woman had figured out that Jezebella wasn't her lover. Fox was reaching for the bedside table trying to get at the lamp. She wasn't playing at seduction anymore; the human was fighting for real.

Jezebella yanked at Fox's arm and pulled her away from the nightstand. She hissed in anger and landed a blow to the human's temple. The redhead dropped away, hanging partially off the bed, and ceased to struggle.

Jezebella collapsed onto the floor next to the unconscious human, pulled her legs close against her chest, and began to rock. What should she do? What should she do? She had failed. And more importantly, Angela had won. Somehow her bitch of a sister had tripped her up again. She should have told her that the human liked to play bondage games. Of course, Jezebella had already figured out that Angela's candy-sweet demeanor was a facade, but how could she have known that her cursed sister made up for her life of lies by letting Fox tie her up and punish her?

The crushing wave of panic receded, replaced by cold, calm anger. Jezebella rose to her feet. "Well if dear, sweet, Angela wants to be punished, I'll be happy to oblige." And she knew just the perfect way. If she couldn't have Angela's life at the castle, then neither would Angela's heir. She turned on her heel, without another thought for her sister's bedmate, and went to find Ptah.

* * * * *

Home, Jezebella thought bitterly, was supposed to be a place of happiness and warmth. A place where one was surrounded by family and friends, not forced to compete for love and acceptance. Not for Jezebella, though. Never for Jezebella. Home was a dark place filled with failures and accusations and hate. No. She would never return home. Never again roost on the stones of the ancients at Castle Wyvern. "No," she whispered as she looked down upon the dirty, nondescript warehouse district where Sevarius was currently hiding. "This is my home now."

But, she thought as she smiled savagely, Wyvern will never be home to Angela's brat either. No, Ptah promised that he would take the egg away. To her tear-stained face he had promised that it would have a good home far, far from the city lights of Manhattan. Where exactly the new rookery was Jezebella didn't care. The deal was done. When they made the discovery and figured out what had happened, the others could protest to the Egyptian clan until the moon fell from the sky, but they would be told that Angela had given the egg freely with proper reverence and the deal could not be unmade.

It wasn't perfect, but it was good enough.

Now her work would truly begin. Wherever the clan was, she would be, crossing their paths and their purpose with a vengeance.

Vengeance. She liked the sound of that word.

"Vengeance shall be mine!" Jezebella promised as she touched down in front of Sevarius's lair.

"Melodramatic much?" Candy drawled in response. The halfling lounged against the warehouse doorway drinking a soda. "I mean come on, every comic book villain uses that line."

Jezebella glared daggers. "I didn't ask for your opinion. In fact, I didn't ask you for anything. Now get out of my way. I need to have a chat with my dear, sweet sister."

"Uh, uh," Candy corrected. "Doc says the gargoyle is off limits." She held out a hand and gripped Jezebella by the shoulder. "Especially to you."

The clone shoved her away. The soda can went flying as Candy, caught unawares by the sudden attack, spun down the alleyway, barely catching herself before she smashed against the brick wall. "What Sevarius wants is none of my concern. I have a score to settle and I want to settle it now." Eyes glowing hotly red, Jezebella went inside.

"Oh, this can't be good." Candy stared after Jezebella for a second and then as much as it twisted her gut, she went after her. Clearly, there was no way Angela was going to survive another encounter with her sister, clone, "Uh, whatever." The revelations of the evening made her head hurt and the more she found out about Sevarius's plans the more she realized she needed Angela in one piece. It was galling, but unavoidable. "Sorry, Jez," she muttered as she went to alert the doctor.

* * *

"Fox, please, help me!"

"Angela?" Fox blinked and rubbed at her head, turning in the direction of the voice. She gasped as she spotted the girl. Angela stood a few feet away, naked and chained, a prisoner behind thick iron bars. Fox dropped her gaze to the large key ring she held clenched in her hands, blinking again as she realized she was dressed not in her own clothes, but the khaki uniform of a prison guard. The costume was authentic right down to the cap on her head and the baton at her hip, but why was she wearing it at all? She looked back up at the caged gargoyle, meeting Angela's pleading eyes, and suddenly confusion turned to clarity. "Hold on, Angela," she said as she stepped to the cell door. "I'm here to get you out." She fumbled with the myriad of keys as the girl looked on, her tail twitching nervously.

"Hurry, Fox," Angela said, desperation filling her voice, "we're running out of time. We have to stop her before it's too late."

"I'm going as fast as I can," Fox growled in reply. She shoved a random key into the lock and gave it a twist. Miraculously, it was the right one. "Yes!" she hissed as the lock clacked and the door swung free. Fox threw it open and reached inside the cell, grabbing the equally surprised gargoyle and pulling her close. Angela's chains jangled as she staggered into the relieved woman's embrace. "Oh my god, you poor thing," Fox muttered. She stroked at Angela's hair, surreptitiously pushing the long sable locks aside to examine the lock on the heavy collar encircling her neck.

Angela tried to return the warm hug, but the shackles at her wrists forestalled her. After a long moment, she shook her head and gently pushed the human woman back. "Please, Fox, we must hurry." 

Fox found a tissue in the pocket of her slacks and used it to dab softly at the tears trickling from the bound gargoyle's eyes. "Can you walk in these?" she asked, indicating the restraints.

Angela sniffled and nodded. "Not well, but I think I can manage."

"Then come on," Fox said. She took Angela's arm to steady her. "Let's get you out of here." She urged the girl forward. "Let's go home." They had only made it a half a step when Angela suddenly doubled over in agony. The bound gargoyle screamed and slipped from Fox's grip, collapsing to her knees as the redhead looked on in shock. "Angela, what's wrong?" Fox cried.

They were the last words Angela heard Fox say. "No!" she howled miserably as the dream world shattered from around her. "I was so close! Not now! Please!"

"Nap time's over, sister!" Jezebella hissed. She touched the shock prod to her Angela's skin again, pressing it this time into the small of her back, right above the base of her tail. She grinned in malicious satisfaction as the sparks danced over the hyper-sensitive flesh, eliciting another banshee-like screech of pain from her kneeling sibling. 

Angela's eyes were blazing red as the lids flew open and reality returned. She had arched back in reflex to the shock, and now she was being grabbed cruelly by the hair. Angela gasped in fright as the glow in her eyes faded and she met her double's cold, murderous gaze. 

"It's time for another lesson, Angie," Jezebella intoned darkly. Curling her talons into her twin's tangled locks, she twisted her head back and dragged her halfway to her feet, then changed her mind and hurled her into the wall with a furious, animalistic roar. Angela grunted and collapsed once more to the ground, the impact knocking the wind from her lungs. "You'd better pay attention to this one, slut!" Jezebella growled as she primed the shock prod again. "It may be your last!"

* * *

Candy jogged down the hallway and found Sevarius in his office. The scientist was seated at his desk, a stack of data disks at his elbow. "What?" he said abruptly. "I thought I was quite clear that I didn't want to be disturbed."

"Yeah, well, sorry about that," Candy said without the least hint of contrition. "But I thought you might want to know that your science project has a major mad on. She was headed for the dungeon and I don't think she was going to play twenty questions."

"My… Jezebella?" Sevarius flipped a switch and the monitoring system came to life. Jezebella had found a shock stick and was brandishing it with fury as she screamed in pantomime at Angela. "Oh dear. This is most unacceptable."

He rose from his desk and in his agitation failed to shut down the computer. Candy lingered behind as he shouted for Ling and restraints. Down the hallway, she heard Jake shout back that Ling had already gone home, but the voices faded into the background as the stack of disks on the desk caught her attention. She took a peek at them and found them unlabeled, but the file, still waiting to be transferred, made her blanch further than her normal ghostly pale. 'Behavioral Control of Genetically Modified Humans'. "Behavioral control my ass," Candy muttered.

"Candace, your presence will be required," Sevarius shouted from the hallway.

"Yeah, right behind you," she shouted back. "I was just looking for another shock prod." She gave one more savage look at the geneticist's desk, grabbed the prod off its hanger on the wall, and jogged out to follow him.

They made it downstairs in moments, picking up Jake and Skeeve, an overly pretty looking halfling in his middle twenties who claimed to have been a fashion model before the war, but not soon enough to protect Angela from the enraged Jezebella.

No longer possessing the electronic key code to the cell, she had compensated by tearing the wiring out of the wall and pushing the bars aside with brute strength. Angela cowered in the corner and the smell of burnt flesh suggested that the shock prod had been set to maximum strength and used more than once against the hapless prisoner.

"That will be enough, Jezebella," Sevarius said calmly as he approached.

"No, Doctor, it's not enough," his creation screamed. "It's never enough. Angela is the perfect daughter. Angela is the perfect mate. Angela sneaks and cheats and lies and then makes it all up by having herself punished for pleasure. Even when she's bad she gets something out of it! What does Jezebella get? All I want is love. All I want is my rightful place. But no, does anybody care about Jezebella? Does anybody even acknowledge I'm alive?"

"I care," Sevarius said as he inched closer, wary of the lethal weapon clutched in Jezebella's talons. "You're my special girl. You're my pride and joy. You are perfect just as you are."

Candy watched, conscious of Jake and Skeeve fanned in blocking positions behind her as the shock prod wavered slightly and tears began to pour in earnest down Jezebella's pale lavender cheeks. She took a hesitant step away from Angela and towards Sevarius.

"That's right, my girl," Sevarius crooned. "Come to Daddy."

Another step. Sevarius had Jezebella's full attention. Candy raised a hand and fired an energy bolt. Jezebella screamed as she realized yet another betrayal and collapsed against the stones of the floor.

Sevarius gave Jezebella a disappointed look. "Back to the drawing board," he sighed. "Candy, put her in restraints." He glanced at Angela. "Secure the other one too. Then bring Jezebella to the medical lab."

"Where do you want me to put this one?" She gestured in Angela's direction.

"Do what you will. I'm tired of this place." Sevarius nodded as if confirming something to himself. "Yes, a change of scenery is in order."

"Where are we heading for next?"

Sevarius looked up at Candy as if he'd already forgotten her presence. "Hmm? Oh, well leave that to me." He began to move rapidly down the hallway. "Hurry up now. We haven't any time to waste."

Candy's lip curled as she followed the doctor's retreat down the hallway then she glanced at Jake. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Every halfling for himself?"

"Yeah. Skeeve, pass the word, quietly. We're bugging out." Candy hefted Jezebella over her shoulder and indicated to Jake that he should do the same with Angela. "Let's move."

* * *

"23rd Precinct. Fraser talking." The F.B.I agent picked up a pencil and notepad. "Yeah, I'm on the task force for the medical lab break-ins. How can I help you?"

Sevarius leaned back in his chair, his packed briefcase lying on the desk before him. So many details to deal with, not the least of which was a fall guy - or was that gal, in this case - to cover his crimes. "Yes, I have it on good authority that the person behind the thefts you're looking for is Dr. Lilith Ling. It seems she's funding some rather controversial research of her own through the theft and sale of biomedical equipment. Quite a dangerous individual, really, doesn't seem to know when man should leave nature alone."

Ling. Well this was a surprise, a nice hot tip to confirm their circumstantial case. "I see, sir, and how do you know this?"

Sevarius sighed dramatically. "She tricked me. Yes, I'll admit I fell for her web of lies. I helped her. But that's not the important thing. I have it on good authority she's leaving town. If you hurry you may still be able to catch her."

The caller rattled off an address that Fraser recognized as Ling's Manhattan apartment and hung up. Good. The case needed closure. It was time to move. Fraser started to get up from the desk and his cell phone vibrated against his leg. He raised an eyebrow, retrieved the device and flipped it open. "Yes?"

Fraser smiled as his caller relayed a terse message. It looked like it was going to be a very productive evening indeed.

* * * * *

"Fox! Come on, Fox! Wake up!" David Xanatos knelt at his wife's side, rubbing her wrists and slapping lightly at her cheeks. She had been out cold, slumped across the bed when he'd entered the room, Alex holding one hand the other cradling a bulky bouquet of red roses.

Now the roses lay forgotten on the floor and from the monitoring system, now set on audible, he could hear Alex asking Owen what was wrong with mama. He wanted that answer too. Who had struck Fox, leaving a purpling bruise blossoming on her temple, and why wouldn't she wake up?

Fox groaned and stirred but seemed no closer to consciousness. David gave her a worried look and hurried to the bathroom for cold water and a cloth. When he returned to the bedside moments later, Fox began to thrash, not as his overwrought mind first surmised in seizure, but as if she were caught in the depths of a particularly vivid dream. He placed the washcloth against her forehead and massaged more forcefully at her wrists. "Come on, Fox. Come back to me."

"David?" Emerald green eyes, unfocused and confused, looked up at him. "What happened?"

"I was hoping you could tell me that," he replied, as casually as if they were discussing the morning stock reports. "It looks like you had some kind of party in here."

"Party." Fox struggled to sit up and placed a hand to her battered temple. "Not quite a - Oh god. The clone was here."

David frowned and his eyes narrowed. "What clone?"

She tried to get off the bed but David held her in place. "Angela's clone. I've got to tell Elisa she was right. The others need to know."

David leaned over to the nightstand and hit an intercom switch. "Owen."

"Yes, Mr. Xanatos."

"We have an intruder alert. Please notify Goliath and the others that their services will be required. And if anybody sees Angela, she's to be treated as hostile. That's all."

"Very good, sir."

Eyes dark with concern, David returned his attention to his wife. "Can you stand?" She nodded and he offered his hand. The pair rose off the bed, Fox leaning ever so slightly on David until she found her balance.

When they arrived in the gargoyles' common room several minutes later, they found most of the clan assembled. Brooklyn, the Egyptian gargoyle Ptah and, of course, Angela were missing. To David's jaundiced eye it looked as if there had been an argument in progress that had ended without resolution. Broadway sat alone with his arms crossed over his broad chest, while Elisa talked quietly with Matt, the recently liberated Danny and his keeper. Goliath stood apart, an undecipherable look on his craggy features. All eyes turned to Fox as they entered.

"We have a problem," David announced. "Angela's clone was in the castle and attacked Fox."

There was a general murmur of surprise and a dark look from Broadway. "It doesn't mean anything," he stated flatly. "It doesn't mean that Angela has been replaced. It just means the clone snuck back in the castle."

"Would you care to explain that, Broadway?" David said.

Broadway stood, his posture stiff and angry. "Yeah. Elisa thinks that we didn't rescue Angela the first time. That the clone took her place and we rescued her instead. I say that's a lot of baloney."

"I'm sorry, Broadway," Fox said gently. "Elisa's right. I think that Angela, the real Angela is still a hostage somewhere. She's been trying to reach us through our dreams."

Elisa looked up, interested. "What changed your mind?"

Fox shrugged. "Have you ever had a dream while you were unconscious?" Elisa shook her head as did Matt. The gargoyles looked puzzled at the question. "Well, neither have I. And yet, while I was knocked out, I felt like I was with Angela. She was in a cell. I was dressed as her guard and was trying to break her out. I almost had the location too, then something happened and the connection was broken."

"I don't get it," Broadway protested. "If Angela was getting into dreams, why didn't she come to me? She's my lifemate. I'd be the one she'd try to contact."

"Angela was using magic," Fox replied. "I felt it this time. I think somehow she reactivated the link that Maeve forged between the three of us to try and make contact, but it wasn't enough."

"Dark magic," Jeannie spoke for the first time. "You were under the spell of the Lady Maeve?"

"Yeah." Elisa looked uncomfortable. "Long story short, she was trying to create a distraction on Avalon so that she could escape. Fox and Angela cast a spell opening a door to the Island at the same time and the three of us were caught in the crossfire." Elisa went quiet for a minute, mulling things over. "I don't like it, but it fits." She looked up at Fox. "Do you think you could trace the magic back to Angela?"

Fox touched a finger to the ear of her namesake tattoo. "I don't know. I should be able to, but I don't have that kind of training yet."

That caught Danny's interest. "You a witch or something?" He gave her a hard stare. "Hey, wait a minute."

Fox gave the boy a depreciative smile. "Halfling. True halfling," she drawled. "I was raised a mortal with all the limitations."

"The Puck," Jeannie said. The words caught in her throat as she looked quickly up at Fox and then dipped her eyes back to the table. "He serves you?"

"Strictly speaking," David interjected, "he serves us both. Unfortunately, Oberon has put a geas on him and he can only use his magic to train and protect Alex."

Jeannie looked faint and Matt gently braced her shoulder as she absorbed the implication of David's cryptic statement. Fox was highborn indeed. "So he may not intercede in tracing your missing clanmate?"

David shook his head.

"Then I offer my services," Jeannie raised her hands to her chest, pressed them together, and inclined her head in a formal bow. "I have not much magic to offer, but perhaps together we can find your missing Angela."

* * *

"You're sure about this," Matt said as Jeannie settled herself on the grass of the arboretum across from Fox and Elisa. In the center of their circle was a plain silver bowl, about three inches high and twelve inches around, filled with water. The three women joined hands and the elfin woman nodded.

"Yes. The magic of Avalon lingers in this place." She smiled shyly at Fox. "And the Lady Fox needs a conduit to focus her energy. I can use the magic to boost my own abilities and provide that conduit. Don't worry, Matt, we'll be fine."

The detective gave her a doubtful look. Danny, standing at his side, yawned. It had been a long day and looked to be an even longer night and Matt found he felt kind of sorry for the teenager. "All right. But I'm sticking around to keep an eye on you three just in case. Goliath and Mr. X. are standing by to move out if you get anything." His phone chirped and Matt scowled. "Bluestone." He listened for a moment and raised his fingertips, massaging his temple as if he suddenly had a headache. "Now? No. Yeah. I'll be there. Don't leave without me." He snapped the phone shut. "Change of plans. That was Fraser. They finally got permission to move on Lilith Ling. Danny will keep an eye on you three." He gave the boy a stern look. "Won't you, Danny."

"Yeah, sure." The kid grinned. "I mean come on, all this time I was down in the basement, Old Stone Face was telling me that if I buckled down, my magic could be used to help people and now I get a real, live demonstration from a witch, an ex-genie, a real halfling and a cop. What more could I ask for? Go on," he said off of Matt's skeptical look. "I'll take good care of them."

Elisa looked at her two companions and started to get up. "I should go."

Matt shook his head. "No, you should stay. Angela needs you and if you show up at the raid the Captain will just make things rough for you later. Don't worry, Elisa."

A frustrated scowl marred Elisa's mouth for a moment before she resettled herself next to Fox and Jeannie. "Keep in touch."

Matt nodded as he dropped the phone back in his pants pocket and headed out of the arboretum. 

Elisa watched as her partner retreated out of the lush green sanctuary then returned her attention to the others. "Okay, let's get this show on the road. It's getting late and who knows if this seeking spell will work on a stone gargoyle."

"Right," said Fox as the three women joined hands again. "Jeannie."

The former djinn took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The others did the same. "Find a quiet place in your mind and see the silver dish before you," she directed. "Visualize it not as a bowl of water but as a great emptiness that isn't truly empty. It's filled to brimming with the life forces of millions. They're shining like stars in the night sky, interconnected with tiny threads of energy to those they know and love."

Danny watched, his fatigue gradually fading as he listened to Jeannie's softly hypnotic voice. He felt his eyes flutter shut as he followed her instructions and found that he could see the web of purple and pink and green life energy bristling off the three women in the arboretum that spiraled out joining and connecting with others until the quiet place in his mind's eye was brighter and more vivid then the Fourth of July fireworks display on Coney Island.

"Now, let the great web fade to the background," Jeannie instructed. "And find each other's aura. Find Elisa. Find Fox. Find me. Bind yourselves together so that our energies become one. Good. I feel you both. And I feel the tendrils of Maeve, encircling you. Don't be afraid. Accept the dark energy. It cannot hurt you any longer."

Though Danny's eyes were closed he could see the outlines of two women arch as though shocked as the tainted fay magic enveloped them. A third, moderating force, embraced them both. _That must be Jeannie_ he realized absently as the pair relaxed.

"You are two legs of a triangle," Jeannie said. "Visual it." And in Danny's head he could see a V shape bright green and purple flare into existence. "But the triangle is incomplete. Somewhere out there is the third point in your triad. Find it. Follow the dark energy until you are one."

A third energy point began to radiate more strongly in the life energy blanket that surrounded them all.

"I feel her," Fox said. "I feel Angela. But I can't get a sense of place. I can't tell where she is."

"That's all right," Jeannie soothed. "Concentrate on bringing her into the triad. Awake the magic within her and she will tell us."

* * * * *

****

New Jersey

"Turn here," Candy ordered. Angela was pressed against the wall as the van cornered sharply, but her seat belt kept her in place as the vehicle hurtled over what felt like a speed bump. Angela wasn't sure how long they had been driving, but as lucidity returned, she was able to gather that they were still on the surface streets. She'd been only semi-conscious as she was carried from the cell, the fiery pain still burning on her belly and back. The pain had since faded to a dull throbbing, but her head was still reeling from the cruel torture Jezebella had administered with her shock prod. Vaguely, she could remember having heard Candy say something about "bugging out," and panic setting in as she was tossed momentarily onto a bed, saw Candy and her partner quickly stuffing clothes into a bag, and realized they meant to take her with them. Weakly, she had squirmed and struggled as the woman pulled her to her feet, but her protests only earned her a hard slap and an angry glare.

"Damn it, I don't have time for this bullshit," Candy had complained, shoving her into Jake's grasp. "Hold her still," the halfling ordered. A drawer was yanked open outside of Angela's line of sight and, for the second time that night, she was grabbed painfully by the hair. Angela screamed. A split-second later, she stopped as Candy pressed something large and round between her teeth, forcing her jaw to open wide. Angela growled in renewed protest as she tasted old rubber and felt the leather straps being tightened around her chin and cheeks, but the only sound that made it past the gag was a soft moan. Eyes burning and nostrils flaring, Angela stared at Candy defiantly as the halfling reappeared from behind her. 

Candy listened to the muffled sounds and returned a smirk of perverse satisfaction. "Just relax, gargoyle. This is all for your own good." 

Angela's jaw ached as she bit into the gag, but the abuse she had suffered at Jezebella's hands had left her with little strength remaining to struggle. As a cloth sack was suddenly tugged down over her eyes, however, plunging her into pitch black darkness, she found the energy to shake her head and give an inaudible, mewling cry of "No!"

Candy clenched her fingernails into Angela's arm as Jake cinched down the drawstring of the black hood that now covered her head. "Shut up, damn you!" she ordered. "We're getting the hell out of here and you're coming along whether you like it or not, so just keep quiet unless you really want to piss me off." She tightened her vice-like grip on Angela's arm, shaking her for emphasis as green swirls of magic trickled from her hand over the lavender skin. "Trust me bitch, you won't like me when I'm angry."

Angela had gone along quietly after that. Once she'd been belted into her seat, she'd even given in to the urge to close her eyes and quietly sob beneath the hood. She didn't have a clue where she was to begin with, so paying attention to the ride seemed of little importance anyway. Without knowing where she was starting from, it would be impossible to deduce where they were taking her. Worriedly, she wondered what plans her halfling captors had for her. Would her clan ever be able to find her now? Angela's stomach knotted as she realized the small piece of needlework that had been her only link to her friends was now gone. It had slipped from her talons when Jezebella had attacked her and fallen to the floor of the tiny prison cell. It was probably still there, lost and out of reach, just as she feared she now was.

Without warning, the van lurched to a stop. A moment later, cool air struck Angela in the face as the stifling black hood was unceremoniously yanked from her head. Jolted from her musings of misery, she blinked her eyes and glared at the short-haired blonde she found standing in front of her. A low growl threatened to spill forth form deep in her throat, but as she spied the shock prod hanging at Candy's hip, she trembled and forced herself to suppress it by biting down hard on her gag. Angela grimaced. The hard rubber ball tasted awful, and the added pressure only caused her distended jaw to ache all the more painfully.

Candy sighed and rolled her eyes. "If I take that off, will you behave yourself?" she asked. She waited for Angela's eager nod of agreement before reaching for the buckles. "Then hold still," she stated, "and no biting," she added quickly. "I didn't do this for kicks, you know, I only did it 'cause I needed to make sure you stayed quiet." With a quick movement of her fingers, the gag's straps fell slack and she carefully extracted the large red ball from the gargoyle's fanged mouth. 

Angela swallowed a mouthful of saliva and coughed. "Thank you," she managed after a moment.

Candy made a disgusted face and tossed the gag aside. "I wouldn't have had to do that if you didn't have such a big mouth, gargoyle," she said. "Your whining could have easily blown everything for us if Sevarius had spotted us leaving."

"I still don't get it. Why did we have to risk our butts to bring _that_ along, anyway?" Jake asked from the front of the van. Angela and Candy both looked up as he threw the column shift into 'park' and turned in his seat to glare disdainfully at the chained gargoyle. "I mean, what are you gonna do with it, Candy, keep it as a pet? It's not like a gargoyle's any use to us. Especially one wearing a collar that's liable to lead Dr. Frank-n-furter right to us."

"Don't worry about that, Jake." Candy didn't even break eye contact with her fellow halfling as she laid her hand on the gargoyle's neck. Angela froze. An eerie chill ran down her back as the arcane energies danced over her skin. A soft click made her cringe in expectation of pain, but then suddenly the thick band of leather fell away. "As you can see, I've got it taken care of," the woman said flatly.

Jake made a face. "Ooh, you and your magic fingers. I'm so impressed." He regarded the gargoyle carefully, misreading the look of profound relief that played across Angela's face at being free of the horrible collar. "Keep going, Candy. I think you're getting her excited."

Candy's eyes narrowed and flickered faintly green. She shoved the collar into Jake's hand and grabbed him by the lapels of his brown leather jacket, pulling him from his seat. "I've had a _really_ bad night, Jake," she intoned, staring him dead in the eyes. "Do me a favor, will you? Take this damn thing, find some place to dump it, and shut your fucking mouth!"

Angela looked on in numb shock as Candy opened the sliding side door and kicked Jake out of the van. The halfling woman slammed the door shut and took a single deep breath before turning her attention back to the gargoyle. For a long moment, the two just stared at each other. Finally, Angela dared to be the one to break the silence. "Have I been kidnapped again?" she asked quietly.

Candy gave a soft chuckle. "I suppose you could say that," she replied. "Funny, though. I was thinking you'd see getting away from those psychos as a positive thing."

"Maybe I could if I wasn't still in chains." Angela tugged at her shackles for emphasis, but the gesture only earned her another roll of the eyes from the female halfling. 

"You're such a drama queen. Just like Jez. Guess it must run in the family, huh?"

Angela growled at the mention of the clone. "I already told you, she's not -"

"I know," Candy interjected, "she's not your sister." Her eyes went distant, as if it pained her to continue, yet she went on. "You were right," she muttered. "About Jez. About Sevarius. About everything. It was all lies." She sighed angrily. "All lies, and I fell for it. I thought he actually gave a damn about us." She turned a harsh glare toward Angela. "What a wonderful joke on me, huh? He said he had a cure. I was supposed to be made human again by now. Instead, it turns out there really is no damned cure and to him I'm just another 'expendable asset.'" Her hands clenched into fists as she continued to fume. "Well, you know what, gargoyle? I've got news for him. I'm not going to be played like that again. I deserve better than that. We all do. We're not lab rats that he can just experiment on for kicks, and I'm sure as hell not going to hang around to be turned into a mindless soldier and sold off as slave labor!"

Quietly, Angela absorbed the incensed halfling's comments, slowly beginning to understand what was truly going on. Just as she'd suspected, it seemed that Xanatos wasn't the only person looking for a way to profit off the spoils of the Unseelie War. She couldn't fault Candy for her reaction. "You're running away," she said hesitantly. "Leaving Sevarius, I mean."

"Damn straight, gargoyle." Candy's expression was hard and grim. "I'm doing what I should have been doing all along - looking out for me and mine. Fuck Sevarius, fuck Ling, and fuck that damned sister of yours or whatever the hell she is, too. They can all kiss my ass."

Angela nodded. The woman was venting, and Angela figured it was better to encourage her to do so with words rather than fists. Still, she was worried about where she fit into Candy's new plan, if she indeed had one. "It sounds like you made the right decision," she said. "I'm sorry you've been treated so poorly."

Candy scowled. "Don't be sorry for me, gargoyle. I don't need your sympathy, and I don't want your pity."

Angela's eyes narrowed at the rebuke. "Then what _do_ you want from me?"

"I want you to tell me if that offer you made still stands." 

"Offer? What offer?" Angela's tone marked her confusion as genuine. It had been a long and arduous night, and she was still struggling to mentally recover from the painful wake-up call Jezebella had delivered with the shock prod. 

Candy sat down on the bench seat opposite the gargoyle, putting herself eye to eye with the girl. "You told me if I would help you escape, you would find a way to help us." Her voice was uncharacteristically controlled, especially in light of her agitation just moments before. Angela's expression brightened in recollection, and for Candy the unspoken acknowledgment was enough to prompt her to go on. "I've already saved your ass twice tonight, gargoyle. I didn't have to bring the cavalry running to stop Jezebella from having her fun, and I didn't have to bring you along with me, either. So as far as I'm concerned, you already owe me big time."

A chill came over Angela as she considered the woman's words. "You're right," she admitted. "You probably saved my life." Her voice was nearly a whisper.

Candy eyed the captive gargoyle carefully. "So you'll keep your word if I turn you loose?"

Angela nodded. "Of course." She looked back up, meeting the woman's eyes with an earnest gaze. "I owe you, and I want to help you. Let me get home and I promise, anything I can do, I will do it."

Try as she might, Candy could sense no duplicity or deception in the girl's plaintive plea. She still wasn't sure she should trust the gargoyle, but all of her other options were gone. She wanted to be human again, and keeping even the smallest bit of hope alive was better than having nothing at all. "You swear on your life, gargoyle?"

"On my life, and on my egg's." Angela lifted her chin resolutely. "I swear it."

"Then I suppose we have a deal." Candy rose and approached the chained gargoyle. 

Angela remained still as the woman undid her seat belt. "Once I know something, I'll need a way to get in touch with you," she said.

"Yeah, well I'm kinda in between residences right now." Candy paused, considering the matter for a moment. "When you have something for me," she decided, "you run a personal ad in the Sunday _Times_. Address it to 'The Lost Boys,' include a phone number, and sign it with your middle name. I'll take it from there."

"My middle name?" Angela questioned, even as she committed the instructions to memory.

"Don't insult my intelligence by pretending you don't know what I'm talking about. I've learned a lot of interesting things about Miss Angela Brigitte Destine over the past few weeks. And I should warn you, I won't hesitate to use what I know to my advantage if you cross me."

Angela's tail twitched beneath her in irritation. How many other secrets of hers had the clone discovered and shared? Angela regarded Candy carefully. While she could understand the reasons behind the woman's paranoia, she still didn't appreciate being threatened. "I've already promised to do all I can," she stated. "I _want_ to help you, but you have to give me time." Angela sighed. "Like it or not, Candy, you're just going to have to trust me."

For a long moment, silence reigned. "All right," Candy replied. "I'll give you until Christmas to contact me with progress. Fair enough, gargoyle?"

Angela nodded. "Yes." Four months to come up with a solution. In truth, it barely seemed like enough time, but from the halfling's tense posture she sensed that now wasn't the time to argue the point.

"Christmas, then." Candy dug into her jeans pocket and produced a set of padlock keys. "I just want you to understand one last thing, monster," she said, jingling them in front of Angela's face. "This doesn't mean that I like you, and it doesn't change how I feel about gargoyles, either. Am I clear on that?"

Angela lifted her manacled hands and allowed the pointed-eared woman to grasp them. "Crystal," she replied.

"Good." Candy curled her fingers about the gargoyle's wrists, and her eyes flashed a brilliant green. Angela didn't even have a chance to gasp as the sudden rush of magical energy enveloped her. Her eyelids fluttered closed, unconsciousness claiming her instantly. The halfling woman smirked as the girl slumped limply against the backrest. "Sweet dreams, Angela," she muttered. Candy knelt down and went to work, quickly matching the keys to their locks and unfastening the sturdy shackles and chains. "Trust a gargoyle to help us," she muttered as she tugged the chain from around the girl's slim waist. "I must be nuts." She took hold of Angela's wrists again, contemplating the sharp talons as she unlocked the steel cuffs. "I'm still not crazy enough to give you a chance to get those claws into me, though." Candy piled the discarded restraints on the floor and pulled a worn blanket from under the seat, using it to wrap the nude girl in a tight cocoon before laying her down across the bench. Angela would have to struggle a little to free herself when she awakened, but Candy supposed she could manage. 

Candy moved to the front passenger seat and pulled a lightweight backpack from the floor onto her lap. As she unzipped the back pocket and withdrew her portable phone, the driver's side door opened and Jake quietly climbed back in to the van. He eyed his partner warily, then cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the motionless gargoyle lying bundled up on the back seat. "Did you -"

"No, I didn't," Candy snapped. "She's not dead, she's napping." She tossed a piece of paper to him on which was scrawled an address. "Just shut up and drive. That's where we're going once we've unloaded the girl. But circle around the block first. There's an alley back the way we came, near the rail yard." She, too, glanced back at the unconscious Angela. "The sooner we can ditch her the better."

"Jesus, now I'm a taxi service for gargoyles," Jake grumped. He turned the key and engine purred back to life. "Why can't we just dump her right here?" he asked as he put the van in gear.

"Because I said so," Candy replied distractedly. She shuffled through the collection of dog-eared scraps of paper that littered the bottom of her knapsack until she at last found the one with the phone number she needed.

Jake stomped the gas and made a sharp U-turn, clipping the curb as pulled back into the lane. As the van accelerated down the darkened street, he hazarded another glance over at his passenger. "What are you doing now?" he asked as she stabbed at the buttons on the small flip-phone. "Calling ahead to let the rest of those freaks know we're letting her go?"

Candy shot him a withering look. "No," she replied calmly, placing the phone to her ear. "I'm just doing a little something to repay the Doc for his kindness."

* * *

Fraser had just slung his coat over his arm when the phone rang again. He checked his watch before snagging the receiver. "23rd Precinct. Fraser here." The F.B.I agent slid back into his chair, grabbing for a notepad. "Yes, that's right. That would be me. How can I help you, ma'am?" His eyes widened as the female caller spoke. "Anton Sevarius?" he asked. "And you're sure about that name?"

Candy settled back into her seat and gave a small smile. "Quite sure," she replied. "And if you hurry, you can still catch him before he leaves town." 

Fraser hurriedly scribbled the address the woman rattled off. "And may I ask how you know this, ma'am?"

"Let's just say I'm a disgruntled former employee," Candy quipped. She quirked her lip as the man on the other end of the line asked for her name and number. "Just tell the good doctor when you see him that Candace says 'hello.' He'll know who I am."

Fraser blinked as the line clicked and went dead. "Hello?" He listened to the silence a moment longer before racking the receiver. Quickly, he tore the page with the notes he had just written from the pad and shoved it into his pants pocket beside his cell phone. He couldn't believe his luck. It had been less than twelve hours since he had learned that Anton Sevarius was still alive, and now he knew exactly where to find him. Fraser checked his watch again. The task force was getting ready to move out, but he had a meeting to make first. He had to relay this latest news to his superiors immediately, but that phone call could be just as easily made from a cab. Without another moment's hesitation, Fraser hurried from the bullpen.

* * * * *

****

Castle Wyvern

"Ow!" Elisa cried. "Did you feel that?" She resisted the urge to break the circle of clasped hands and massage at her cheek. "It felt like my face hit cement. Hard."

Standing at sentry, Danny opened his eyes. The three women were sitting motionless in a circle on the grass of the arboretum. His halfling-enhanced senses could still see their auras, but now he was aware of their physical demeanors as well. Elisa looked startled, Mrs. Xanatos, the one Jeannie called Lady Fox, had a glassy faraway expression, but his traveling companion was smiling as though delighted by an unforeseen turn of events.

"You have no magic of your own, yet you are sharing Angela's physical experiences. This is unexpected but fortuitous. Open yourself to the pain, Elisa," she said earnestly. "Feel what Angela feels. Through you we shall find her."

Elisa swallowed. She trusted Jeannie, but did she dare open herself so fully to another's consciousness? "How?"

"Just relax. Lady Fox and I will do the rest."

* * *

It was cold in the alley. Not chill, but the sun seldom reached the recesses where Angela sprawled, one cheek resting on a pile of broken bricks. A curious rat sniffed at the strange purplish creature that had invaded its space. A tentative nibble found the thing's hide to be tough and unpalatable. It washed its paws, considering whether to summon its brethren. Sometimes when they tore beneath the wrapper toothsome bits could be found, but a squeak from the other side of the alley promised easier pickings. With a final twitch of its ears the rat scampered away, leaving the gargoyle in peace.

"Angela?"

"Angela, where are you?"

Voices were calling her. It seemed they were very far off but their tone was insistent. Urgent even.

Angela wanted to ignore them. She was so tired. There was so much pain. It was much easier to lie in the dark away from the world and let it spin on without her. Yes, let her be among the disembodied here in the void. It was peaceful. Let the spinning globe and the little twinkling lights tend to themselves for a while.

"I can't do this, she's fighting me."

"You can," another voice said. "You must."

Another entered her realm. Angela ignored it, basking in her bubble of tranquillity. The new presence offered no threat, so she let it be. Live and let live was her motto.

"Angela," the voice said.

Funny, she thought absently. It knows my name.

"Come on, Angela. It's Elisa. I've come to take you home. But I need your help."

Home. Wasn't this home, this dark quiet place? No, she considered, as the world below spun slowly on, perhaps not. Home was full of noise and bustle and others, so many others. They needed her. Elisa needed her. Angela had been taught from an egg to always obey the call of duty. Reluctantly she replied. "What do you want me to do?"

"Let me in. I need to see where you are."

Angela chuckled gently at the notion. "What is there to see, Elisa? We are here. I like it here, it's nice."

It wasn't possible for disembodied life energy to scowl, but Elisa felt like doing it anyway. "Not here, Ang. Down there, in the real world. I need to find you down there. It's important."

"Oh." There was a pause. Of a moment or an hour, it was unclear. "Very well."

The other energy that was Elisa enveloped her. It was nice too, Angela decided, warm and comforting. But there was an insistent edge to it that was less nice. She felt herself drawn downward toward the lazy spinning globe. Down to the light. Down to the world hard and cold.

In the alley, Angela lifted her head and looked around. She heard voices, saw a street name painted on the wall and smiled. With a sigh she pillowed her head once more on the bricks and passed out.

* * * * *

****

New Jersey

"So much to do, so little time," Sevarius murmured as he shoved a rack of promising lab samples into a padded cooler. "Let see, briefcase all packed, data dumped to the backup site…" He looked at Jezabella reclining unconscious and shackled on a stainless steel exam table. "Nothing remains but you, my dear."

He picked up a brown glass bottle with a vivid purple label and a large syringe. His hands were steady as he filled the barrel with viscous pink barbiturate solution. "Just a little prick and then all of your troubles will be over, Jessie," Anton said softly.

Her pulse throbbed strongly under his fingertips as he rolled off the vein and prepared to insert the needle. The tip slid under her skin with surprising ease, but as Anton drew back on the plunger and a spot of bright red blood contaminated the liquid his hand began to tremble as if it belonged to a palsied old man. "Here, now, Anton old chap," he counseled. "Buck up. No point in getting sentimental now."

He blinked a tear from his eye with a bemused quirk of his lips and shook his head. Anton Sevarius, Scientist, Greatest Geneticist of Them All, did not get weepy like a little schoolgirl over failed experiments.

She had been quite the accomplishment, he thought with a smile of genuine pride, a perfect physical reproduction of the original source genome, clever and easy to train. Jezebella had been a brilliant sneak thief, a talented actress, and she had been remarkably successful in fooling the residents of the Eyrie Building. He had become rather fond of her and, he realized sadly, he would miss her. Curse Ling and her shoddy programming. There would never be another one precisely like Jezebella.

Unless…

Sevarius withdrew the needle from Jezebella's arm. "Come, my girl, Daddy's going to take you on a little trip." He dropped the syringe on the counter and hit the "Call" button on the P.A. system. "Candy, I need you in the lab. Now."

He waited, using the time to check the refrigerators and sample racks one more time for anything he might have overlooked. After several minutes had passed he hit the button again. "Candy, I said I need you in the lab now."

"I'm afraid there's no one by that name here, Doctor," said a voice from the doorway.

Sevarius looked up in surprise. Three men in long dark gray trench coats and business suits, their eyes obscured by reflective glasses, had infiltrated his sanctum sanctorum. "Who are you?" he demanded, offended to his core. "This is private property."

"Isn't the quest for knowledge really a public concern, Doctor Sevarius?" said the leader of the trio. The other two took up subsidiary positions flanking the person Anton presumed to be their leader. All three were of medium height and stocky and Sevarius realized he'd have a difficult time picking them out of a crowd. "But to answer your question in rather broad terms, we represent your new employers. You'll find the working conditions pleasant, and we offer a most generous package of employee benefits." Nothing overt changed about his demeanor but Anton felt a chill as the fellow concluded, "As long as you keep us happy."

The spokesman quirked his head and one of his associates produced a syringe of his own.

"Now, chaps," Anton said holding a placating hand up. "I'm sure that's not really necessary. I'm a quiet, mild-mannered sort of fellow. No need for untoward measures."

"Sorry, Doctor," the spokesman replied. The other two hadn't said a word during the entire encounter and Sevarius was starting to wonder if they could speak at all. "Standard procedure."

The two suited men advanced. Anton made a grab for the syringe of barbiturate solution. He brandished it before him. "I really must insist."

Enforcer One exchanged a glance with Enforcer Two and restrained Sevarius without a struggle. The pink solution filled syringe dropped to the floor with a bounce and rolled under the counter as his partner pushed up the sleeve of his lab coat and injected Anton. "This is very rude," Sevarius slurred as his chin slumped toward his chest.

"Take him to the van," the leader ordered.

Enforcer Two pointed at the lab table and the still bound and unconscious Jezebella. "What about this one?"

"Take her as well. Omega Section is interested in gargoyles."

More suited men appeared. "Clean house, gentlemen," the leader ordered. "Quickly. We have one more stop tonight. Van Winkle has informed me that the doctor has a partner and he's en route to pick her up.

* * * * *

****

Castle Wyvern

Look, Doc. It's nothing personal," Brooklyn said as he struggled to his feet. "But I hate hospitals."

Dr. Danvers gave him a sympathetic look. "Don't we all?" she said archly. "No one likes to be poked and prodded and kept up all night by beeping machines, but we should keep an eye on you at least until morning. You lost a lot of blood from that thigh wound. We don't want you passing out and injuring yourself further."

"Point taken. But I feel fine." To prove his point the big red gargoyle patted his head and rubbed his stomach at the same time. "See? I have perfect motor coordination." He fumbled the maneuver after a couple of iterations. "Well," he amended, "near perfect, anyway." 

Shelley Danvers made a note on his chart and recalled the one threat that might keep her patient confined to bed. His mate, the kimono clad and fiercely protective green gargoyle, had tried to stare the emergency doctor down for control of Brooklyn's treatment. She had only deferred under orders from Goliath. "I'm releasing you on your own recognizance. Shall I call Sata to come and help you back to your perch?

Brooklyn looked momentarily cowed. "Let's just keep this our little secret, shall we? I'm sure Sata is busy with something. She always is. And the leg is good as new. Really."

"Your funeral," the doctor replied. "Stay off that wing until tomorrow. The glue should hold as long as it's not subjected to any real stress."

"Right. No long glides. I think I can manage that." Brooklyn sketched a salute, bowing as he touched to fingers to his temple." Good night, Doc. And thanks again." He exited the sterile white medical wing and headed for the lift to the castle's main living quarters. Once he'd explained his discharge to Sata, maybe he'd spend the rest of the evening watching a movie with the kids. No, he amended, movies with the twins tended to evolve into full contact sport and he was, despite his claims to the contrary, both sore and tired. "Maybe I'll try and catch up with my reading."

There was no sign of his clanmates as he entered the common area. Brooklyn's beak wrinkled in curiosity, but he let the minor mystery go as he picked up Jeffery Robbins latest sword and sorcery fantasy. At least that was how it was billed. In truth, Hudson had collaborated with the noted author to tell some of the stories of the clan's early days.

He settled into an armchair and found he couldn't get comfortable. Picking up the book and a cushion, he headed outside to enjoy the warm summer evening. The temperature had moderated a little, settling in the mid eighties. The steady breeze made it seem even cooler. Brooklyn settled against the wall and began to read. 

He only had managed ten pages or so. The book opened with a prelude involving a treasure chest containing not gold, but ancient scrolls. The writing was vivid and it was with reluctance that Brooklyn raised his eyes from the page at the sound of another gargoyle on the wing. 

Ptah. And from the looks of it, he was ready to hit the road. The Egyptian elder had a cloth bundle tied to his back and a second that hung close to his chest. "Curious." Brooklyn put down his book. "Ptah was traveling a lot lighter when he arrived. I wonder if those are souvenirs for the folks back home." The gargoyle shook his shaggy head. "Nah. And Owen would never forgive us if he's taken off with the good candlesticks." 

With a grunt and a groan, Brooklyn clambered to his feet. His thigh had stiffened in the short time he'd been on the ground and the area around the bullet torn wing wasn't much better. Both wounds throbbed in time with his pulse, but he ignored them as he dove off the castle wall and vectored a pursuit course that kept Ptah just barely in visual range.

They glided across the city for several minutes. Brooklyn frowned. The old gargoyle's path was taking them neither towards the island's perimeter and its docks, nor the airport. He seemed to be headed towards the city's financial district. When they crossed Wall Street, Ptah reset his wings and descended sharply towards a rooftop. 

Cautiously, Brooklyn closed, banking around a slightly shorter building to land on a window washer's platform tied off a story below. He listened carefully. He heard nothing to suggest that Ptah had realized he'd been tailed and carefully began to climb the short distance to the roof. 

"Better late than never, Ptah, but you came through," a voice said from the shadows.

"Fortune has smiled on me, Van Winkle," the Egyptian replied. His voice was smooth and supercilious, containing none of the craven, pleading tones it had held the last time Brooklyn had eavesdropped. Had that only been a few hours ago? What could have - 

"Oh no," Brooklyn whispered. "The egg. Ptah said he would do something tonight."

There was movement on the rooftop above him. Brooklyn inched closer and pulled himself over the short brick wall that enclosed the roof and ducked behind a series of fan housings. Ptah was undoing the bundle tied at his chest. "You must keep it warm and safe."

"Don't worry, Ptah," the voice said. "We've done this before."

"Yeah, well you're not gonna do it again," Brooklyn stepped out from behind his cover and charged the human. He went down in a tumble but in the process kicked savagely at Brooklyn. He landed a lucky shot and pain blossomed anew as the neoprene sole contacted with gunshot flesh. The gargoyle roared and went down. 

Blood flowed freshly down his leg as he rose, but Brooklyn found his feet. "Give me the egg, Ptah." 

Ptah stared at Van Winkle. The human appeared to be unconscious. Perhaps he could walk away from this after all. He had been foolish to side with the Unseelie. But perhaps even Senen would have forgiven him had he explained that minions of Sekhmet had courted him above all others. They had promised that the goddess herself had been prepared to welcome them all to sit at her feet as it had been in days long past. How was he to know that even gods could lie? 

How was he to know that what Lord Garlon had really meant was that the Unseelie would enthrall the warriors swayed to their cause, turning them into mindless automatons to use against their foes? That for the gargoyles of the Oasis Clan, there would be no return to the glory of the old days, only death? 

He had learned their true plan too late, and it had cost his most valiant fighters. Those hand-picked recruits he had swayed against Senen, his honor guard who Ptah had chosen to wait at his feet as he served the goddess. 

All dead. 

A saving grace really, there had been no one to tell the tale when the Unseelie lost ignobly and were driven from the desert. Or so he thought. 

Then came the message placed in a pouch around his neck while he slept. The message marked with a pyramid and all-seeing eye. 

The Illuminati knew all. 

The Illuminati wanted a favor. 

At first he had ignored the missives. 

The Illuminati were displeased. One night, he had woken far from his daytime perch. During his slumber they had moved him far into the desert and left him on the edge of a precipice, high above a valley of jagged rocks. The warning was subtle and obvious. They controlled his life and his death. 

The next time they summoned, Ptah answered their call. Why they wanted this first child of the Manhattan clan out of its rookery he did not know. He did not want to know. He just got on the plane and went to America. 

But now, perhaps he had an out. Van Winkle was injured and Brooklyn advancing. He wavered. Should he help the Illuminati or hand over the egg to the Second?

Or maybe he should let fate decide. 

Ptah tossed the egg high in the air and dove off the bank building. 

"NO!" Brooklyn screamed and was joined by the protest of the man just regaining consciousness behind him. He leapt forward putting his full weight on his injured leg. It buckled and he stumbled. The egg, on its downward arc, fell passed the edge of the building and began its descent to the street far below. 

Dizzy and in pain, blood flowing freely down his thigh, Brooklyn leapt after the egg, pulling his wings in tight as he fought to intercept.

He gained by increments, first a few feet and then a few more. The egg held its stubborn lead, staying inches beyond the gargoyle's grasp. 

Brooklyn hurtled downward and a large green object loomed into view. Down below near the pavement an awning overhung the street. He tore his eyes away as his talons brushed against the egg.

He had nothing to spur himself on but regret. He should have acted sooner. He should have confided his doubts to Goliath or at the very least to Sata. 

Anger augmented his adrenaline and gave him the push he needed. Brooklyn cupped the egg in his hands as the overhang rushed up to meet him. 

It was too late to pull out. Too late to do anything but pray. Brooklyn clutched the egg close against his chest and curled into a ball. He hit canvas shoulder first and rolled.

The fabric tore but held under his weight. He slid the length of the awning and at the last second one hand shot out and grabbed the edge. 

His shoulder screamed in pain as the socket tried to separate under the strain of his weight. He dropped the last twenty feet to the pavement and landed in a heap, the egg still clutched protectively against his chestplate. "Sata's gonna kill me," the gargoyle muttered. He tried to stand and didn't do such a good job. His injured leg buckled under his weight. 

"Hey buddy, you okay?" 

Brooklyn looked up. A police squad car had pulled to the curb and a pair of uniformed officers was getting out, caps in hand. They looked vaguely familiar and it took the gargoyle a minute to place them. "I've had better nights," he admitted. 

"Donovan," said the younger of the two patrolmen. "We know this guy. He helped with that convenience store robbery last week. You remember, bunch of teenagers held up that Korean couple."

"Sure," his partner replied. "You really did us a favor pinning those punks in that alley until we could get backup."

The gargoyle shrugged and found that if he concentrated the cops faces didn't really spin, just faded in and out of focus. "I just happened to be in the neighborhood and you looked like you could use a hand. It was nothing." 

"Yeah, well nothing or not," the younger one said as he held out his hand to Brooklyn, "we appreciated the assist. Whoa!" Despite being a lean and muscular two hundred and five pounds, the cop staggered as the gargoyle lost his footing. "Hey Sarge, how about an assist."

"Sure, Marquez." The sergeant opened the squad car door and helped Brooklyn into the back. "Come on, you look like you need to go to the hospital. You're bleeding on the upholstery." He turned to his partner. "Pete, the first aid kit," he bellowed. When he turned back to Brooklyn he finally noticed the gargoyle had something wrapped in the blanket cradled against his chest. "Hey, what's this you've got here?"

__

Snap out of it or into it. He couldn't decide which as he chided himself. "Precious cargo," Brooklyn managed. "No hospital," he added. "But I could use a lift. Say, the Eyrie Building?" The two cops looked at one another. "What?" 

"That's out of our district," Marquez replied. "But we're about due to go off shift. I guess it couldn't hurt to be a couple of minutes late getting back to the precinct."

Brooklyn slumped against the seat cushion. "Thanks, fellas." He barely noticed as Marquez slid into the seat next to him and opened the first aid kit as Donovan pulled away from the curb.

* * * * *

****

Manhattan

"I'm innocent, I tell you! Innocent!" Lilith Ling shouted as Matt Bluestone slipped handcuffs over the smooth cotton knit cuffs of her running suit and snapped them shut. Dressed as she was in the frivolously embroidered leisure clothes with a pair of reading glasses around her neck, she seemed to be an unlikely flight risk. He wondered why the informant seemed to think she was planning on pulling out suddenly. "It was all Anton Sevarius's idea. His lab. His plan! What do I know about cloning?" Matt began to read her Miranda Rights as he led her out of her plush park-side townhouse and down the steps towards a waiting patrol car. 

They were halfway down the walkway when an unmarked black sedan skidded to the curb. Out jumped Special Agent Fraser looking somewhat rumpled. "Hey Bluestone, glad you could make it." He hustled out of the car and smiled as he joined Matt and the prisoner.

Matt glanced up at the sound of the familiar voice and then took a closer look at his temporary partner. Though he'd made obvious efforts to repair the damage, his suit was dusty and flecked with dirt and he was sporting the beginning of a bruise on his cheek. "What happened to you?"

"Hmmm?" Fraser replied, distracted. He was scanning the contingent of uniformed officers and plainclothes detectives waiting to begin the search of Ling's residence. He spotted a dark-haired neatly turned out young man in a plain black suit. "Hey, Mendoza. Over here," he shouted. "Oh, nothing," he replied as the officer in question nodded and began to hurry towards them. He returned his attention to Matt and Ling. "Just a little misunderstanding. No permanent harm done." He rubbed his hands together briskly, wincing as he noticed a skinned spot on his palm. "This will certainly salvage my night."

Matt quirked a smile back. "Yeah, closing a case certainly can do that." His brow knitted as he asked quietly, "Any word on Sevarius?"

Fraser shook his head. "I thought we'd run him to ground but he flew the coop." He glanced at Ling. "We got one of our birds. All we need is for her to sing about where they're keeping the stuff and we can write this puppy up. We'll keep looking for her partner."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Ling protested as Mendoza joined the group. "I tell you I'm innocent."

Fraser nodded at Mendoza. "Of course you are. Agent Mendoza, if you'd be so kind as to take Dr. Ling in charge." A guilty look clouded his features momentarily. "Matt, I hate to do this to you, but my superiors have stepped in. We're taking over the case."

Profound irritation at the high-handed government approach stymied Matt from replying for a moment, and then he blew out a deep breath and held up his hands. "Fine. Be my guest. I've got places I'd rather be tonight anyway." He watched as Mendoza loaded Lilith Ling into Fraser's car and more dark suited men and women started to pull up and get out of similar black sedans. There was grumbling as they flashed badges. Matt shook his head as one of the other detectives started to protest loudly. "Don't fight the feds," he advised as he held out his hand to Fraser. "It's been fun."

Fraser shook his hand. "Yeah, we should do it again sometime." 

"Sometime," Matt agreed as he left Fraser directing the search of Lilith Ling's townhouse. He whistled for a uniformed officer from his own division and hitched a ride back to the station to make his report.

* * * * *

****

New Jersey

"They've got her, Fox. Thank god. Where did you find her, Goliath?"

"There, in the alley, just as you said."

"I can't believe they just left her there. It's okay now, Ang. I'm here. You're safe now."

Voices. So many voices surrounding her. Elisa. Father. Broadway. A small part of her wanted to answer back, but the other part of her that didn't was stronger. No, it argued, to speak she would have to wake up. If she woke up, the pain would return, and she didn't want that. Not now. Not again. 

"Come on, Ang, wake up. Talk to me."

"Angela, it's me. It's Elisa. Can you hear me?"

"It is no use, my Elisa. She has been non-responsive since we arrived."

The voices took an insistent tone now. Oh, why couldn't they just leave her be? Surely no harm could come of letting her sleep a little longer. Strong arms cradled her and a hand gently stroked the back of her head. It felt so nice to be held like that, so warm and secure. Angela reveled in the sensation, sighing as she recalled the last time in her life she had felt so thoroughly comforted. She'd been but a hatchling in a young Princess Kathryn's arms, frightened by the thunder from a midsummer storm. If she tried, she could almost hear the human woman's kind voice. "Och, there now, my Egg. 'Tis only the rain. It cannae hurt ye." Angela murmured contentedly and snuggled against the arms that held her, drawing herself deeper into the memory. Away from the voices. Away from the pain.

Fox brushed past Goliath, giving him a reassuring glance as she took command of the scene. The clan leader yielded his place at Broadway's side and stepped back, placing an arm around Elisa. The auburn-haired mistress of Castle Wyvern looked uncharacteristically disheveled. She hadn't bothered to change out of the clothes she had arrived home in, only rolled up the sleeves of her blouse and twisted her hair up in a loose bun. Several stray strands had since slipped free and now fluttered about her face, yet still she exuded a sense of quiet authority as she examined the unconscious female bundled in Broadway's arms. 

A dark bruise colored Angela's left cheek, and Fox winced in empathy as she placed a hand on the gargoyle's forehead. She concentrated for a moment, focusing as Owen had taught her. Angela's aura was unsteady and weak, and the taint of dark magic lingered about her. The woman frowned. Even to her unskilled senses, it was obvious that Angela's injuries were more extensive than just the single nasty bump Elisa had felt earlier. "She's gone into shock," Fox pronounced. Placing a hand on Broadway's arm, she directed him toward the back of the recovery van where Owen already waited. "Let's get her loaded up," she ordered, forcing herself to keep her own emotions in check. "Quickly. David has Dr. Danvers standing by back at the Eyrie to receive her."

"I'm riding along this time," the burly gargoyle stated. He eyeballed Owen hard, daring the blond man to offer objection as he carefully deposited his mate on the gurney. "I'm not letting her out of my sight again. Not until I know the imposter's been found."

Angela twitched restlessly as she slipped from Broadway's arms, struggling against the threadbare blanket wrapped about her. "No," she muttered quietly, "don't leave me." She spoke as if from the depths of a dream, and her eyes were still closed as Broadway steadied her and tugged the blanket back, allowing her to free her arms.

"Shh. I'm right here, babe. And I'm not going anywhere." The big blue gargoyle trailed his talons lightly over Angela's brow. She quieted almost immediately at his touch, the faintest trace of a smile coming to her lips.

Owen looked to Fox for approval, then nodded and stepped aside. "As you say," he said, making room for the woman as she drew a second blanket over the injured gargoyle.

Elisa exchanged glances with Goliath. Concern was etched in his craggy features, and she could tell it was by willpower alone that he hung back, allowing the others to tend to his daughter. Fox had taken Angela's hand and was now checking her pulse, while Broadway continued to stroke her hair and coo soft words of encouragement. "She'll be okay, big guy." Elisa managed a reassuring smile for her mate before looking away again.

Her eyes focused in briefly on the street name painted on the brickwork. Her clanmates had covered the distance faster by air than she and Fox had been able to on the ground. They had located the alley first, and they had found Angela right where she had told them she would be found. There had been no possibility of mistaking the location. For a few brief seconds, she had been _inside_ Angela's head, looking out on the world through Angela's own eyes. Her consciousness in Angela's body - just thinking back on it gave her chills. Strangely, though, it did nothing to assuage the sudden uncertainty she felt.

The dark-haired woman's gaze traveled to Jeannie. The former djinn and her halfling charge lingered on the sidelines, looking on but not daring to intrude. Jeannie had offered nary a word to break the silence during the van ride across the river. Now, however, she stepped forward, instantly seeming to sense Elisa's concern. It was as if the moment their eyes met, everything she was thinking was communicated without a single word being spoken. Jeannie nodded, and Elisa moved from Goliath's embrace to join her at Angela's side.

Though it seemed almost insane to think that Angela's abductors would try the same cruel trick again, Elisa knew the question plaguing her was one that needed to be answered. For Angela's sake, they simply couldn't risk making another mistake. As she watched Broadway gently fawning over the unconscious female, though, she stopped herself short of blurting out her fears and instead laid a hand on Fox's arm. As the other woman turned to her, Elisa dropped her voice to a whisper. "Fox, are we sure she's the real Angela?"

Fox blinked and stared at Elisa for a long moment. "Yes," she replied at last, "I'm positive." She glanced back at Angela and reached out to squeeze the girl's hand. "Auras are unique, and I'd recognize hers anywhere." 

Elisa looked to Jeannie for confirmation. "Lady Fox speaks the truth, Elisa," the petite woman said.

"It's her," Fox reaffirmed, keeping her voice low. "She's just… I don't know, it's like she's not quite all there." 

"What do you mean?" Elisa asked.

"I'm not sure." Fox frowned worriedly. "It's almost like a part of her is still out there somewhere -" She gestured upward. "- and it doesn't want to come back."

"She was fighting me earlier," Elisa said. "Could she still be doing it now?"

"It is possible," Jeannie offered. The former djinn's expression turned contemplative as the other two women looked to her. "If the trauma she has suffered is great, her consciousness may be reluctant to fully return from the astral realm."

"Then maybe we need to help her," Fox decided. "Here, Elisa." Fox pressed Angela's hand into Elisa's, and gestured for Jeannie to join them as she quickly circled around the foot of the gurney and took Angela's other hand into her own.

Another glance passed between Elisa and Jeannie, and in an instant they understood. They had found Angela's physical body, but their help was still needed to bring her wandering consciousness home. Mirroring Fox's actions, Elisa squeezed her gargoyle stepdaughter's talons in her left hand and held out her right to accept Jeannie's. 

"Close your eyes now," Jeannie instructed calmly, "and focus just as before." 

Angela stirred slightly as she was brought reluctantly into the circle. "No," she muttered miserably, eyes still closed, "just let me sleep." Broadway looked up, becoming cognizant of the others as the apparent source of his injured mate's distress. Fox, Elisa, and Jeannie stood still, hands linked and eyes closed in a meditative trance. He glanced at the silently watching Owen, then turned his attention back to Angela.

"Don't fight it, Angela," he said softly, stoking her hair once again. "Come back to us. Please."

"What are they doing?" Goliath's words carried the undertone of an impatient growl. "She is injured. They should be taking her back to the castle." He made to step forward but found his path suddenly blocked by the teenage halfling.

"No, don't! They're trying to help her." Danny gave a quick glance back over his shoulder and pulled himself to his full height. "Jeannie knows what she's doing. Please. If you interrupt, you can only make things worse."

Goliath glanced over the head of the impudent teenager at the trio of women surrounding his daughter. Hands clasped, eyes closed, only the one called Jeannie speaking softly as she guided the others back to the astral plane. He took a step backwards and forced himself to take a deep breath. Danny seemed to relax visibly as well, though he took up a sentry's pose at the door to the van, forcing Goliath to wait helplessly alone as the trio slipped into a deeper trance.

"Angela." 

High above her body, neither here nor there, Angela stirred. Someone was calling her name again. Funny, she had thought this a peaceful place. Nothing but the dark and her memories to keep her company if she wanted them. But there was that insistent voice again.

"Angela. Come on, I know you're out there."

Yes, she was 'out there' she thought absently. She was also on Avalon enjoying the days of her halcyon youth. Given a choice between staying in either place and returning to the world below she'd opt to stay firmly where she was, floating on the endless void, enjoying idyllic scenes of nights past. There wasn't anything wrong with that. Was there?

"Fox, help me. She's being stubborn."

"After what she's been through, Elisa, can you blame her?"

So it was Elisa who had been calling her again. She thought the voice was familiar. And now Fox had come to visit too. My, it was turning into quite the party, but Angela didn't want to entertain callers, she wanted to rest and remember happier times. Surely her visitors would understand. 

"Go away, Elisa. I know you mean well, but I'm happy here."

"See what I mean?" the voice echoed archly out of the void.

"Angela, it's Fox," said the second voice firmly. "Fun is fun, but you need to come back to earth now."

"No. I don't want to."

"Life sucks that way, Ang. But there's a whole bunch of people down there who are waiting for you."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"No, Angela. Not those people," Elisa said, catching on to Fox's plan. "Those people are all gone. Broadway's down there and he's worried sick. You need to come back for him. You need to come back for Goliath. They need you."

"Broadway," Angela said dreamily and then her voice turned sad. "He didn't miss me. He didn't know I'd been replaced."

"He was tricked," Fox said quickly. "We were all tricked. Don't hold that against him."

"Even you?" 

"Even us," Elisa replied. "We're sorry, Angela. We're all so sorry. Please forgive us and come home."

Silence. 

"What about your egg?" Elisa said. "You sent us all those dreams. It seemed to me you were worried about it. Don't you want to see for yourself that it's safe?"

"I can do that from here," Angela replied, her tone petulant. She giggled. "See? There it is. All safe. But why is Brooklyn in the rookery?"

"Can't help you there," Fox said. "Come back to your body. We'll go back to the castle and find out."

More silence. In the void it stretched in black ribbons.

"Very well."

Down through the blackness, three disembodied spirits hurtled away from the astral plane towards their physical shells below. On earth, in the deserted street, the seekers and the seeked gasped as their astral selves rejoined with their bodies.

"What a rush," Fox said as she shook her head. Across from her, and still holding Jeannie's hand, Elisa was blinking, looking discomfited as if she were trying to reconcile where she was with where she had been. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that," she muttered. "Angela?"

On the gurney Angela was stirring. "Where am I?"

"You're back with us, babe," Broadway replied, his voice heavy with relief. "You're safe."

Jeannie smiled.

Outside the circle, there was movement. Elisa looked up to see Sata, the twins behind her, reporting to Goliath. She glanced down at Angela. Her eyes were closed, she was breathing regularly, and there was nothing else she could do for the moment except get out of the way so that others could do their work. "Good to have you back," she murmured, giving Angela's talons a final squeeze before Owen slid the gurney into the van. Elisa stepped away. "What's going on?" she asked as the recovery vehicle pulled smoothly out of the alley.

"The children were exploring the adjoining buildings," Sata said. "They have come upon the remains of a laboratory recently abandoned. "I believe you should see."

Elisa nodded, trying to center herself. The otherworldly feeling had not abated and she felt that

a part of her was still floating out of her body, watching as she followed Graeme into the tired brick building. Goliath noticed her dreamy gait and asked concerned, "Are you all right?"

She nodded again as she surveyed the room with overly heightened senses. "There's been a whole lot of people through here recently, not all of them entirely human." They moved deeper into the warehouse. It had been subdivided much as the facility they'd raided before. Living quarters, offices and laboratories all abandoned. Boxes of equipment lay half-packed in one corner of a large multipurpose space. "This is it," she said softly. "Sevarius and Ling's lab." Elisa pulled out her cell phone and dialed. "Yeah. Tell the biomedical theft task force I have a tip for them. They can find the main lab and the missing equipment if they hurry." She rattled off an address and snapped the phone shut before the dispatcher could reply. "Come on, get everyone out of here and let's find ourselves a ringside seat," she said to Goliath.

"Why?" he questioned even as he relayed the order to withdraw. 

"We found Angela," Elisa said as she stepped out into the waning night. "And that's important for us. But the cop in me wanted to close this case. Matt and the others on the task force got Ling. Maybe they'll get lucky and get Sevarius too. I just wanted to do my part." The squall of sirens began to build in the distance as the Jersey cops moved in to secure the scene. 

Elisa grabbed the rungs of a rusty fire escape and yanked on the ladder. Without waiting for Goliath she began to climb upwards. He nodded and followed, watching as his clanmates, already on the wing, headed back towards the castle. 

Together they knelt side by side, watching as the dark street flared alive with red and blue lights, as men and women piled out of cars and vans pulling on latex gloves and moved swiftly into the building side arms drawn. When the first shouts of success echoed up to the rooftop, Elisa smiled grimly and indicated to Goliath that they could go home at last.

* * * * *

****

Castle Wyvern

Sata peered into the rookery and spotted her mate at the far side of the room, dozing in one of the two sturdy wingback chairs that, along with a small side table, made up the room's only furnishings. It had been Fox who had suggested that she might find him here after Dr. Danvers had informed her that she had not seen him since releasing him from the infirmary. How Fox had known where he was, however, was a question that still remained unanswered. She had appeared utterly spent as she leaned against husband, waiting for the elevator that would take them back up to the castle. Sata had already watched from afar as Xanatos fought an uphill battle to convince his exhausted wife to leave Angela's care to Dr. Danvers and return to their quarters for a shower and rest. After being told she should try seeking Brooklyn in the rookery, Sata hadn't wished to trouble the human woman further.

"Brooklyn-san?"

Sata laid a hand on his shoulder and the brick-red gargoyle opened his eyes. Blinking, he looked up at her. "Sata, hello. I didn't hear you come in." He grabbed the arm of the chair to push himself to a more upright position and winced as every muscle in his body ached in protest. "Sorry," he added through gritted teeth. "Guess I must have dozed off for a minute there." His eyes flicked briefly to the eggs. One, two, three of them, all resting snugly in their nest boxes, nestled safely upon small mounds of fresh straw. 

Sata followed his gaze curiously, unable to help noticing how his attention lingered on Angela's egg a moment longer than it did the other two. "Is everything all right, my love?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah." Brooklyn rose unsteadily to his feet and took the arm his mate offered. "Everything's fine." He looked at the eggs again. "It's all just as it should be."

"I see." Sata's brow ridge crept up skeptically as she examined the bandage on his thigh. The wrappings of gauze and tape looked to have been freshly changed, and not professionally so. "So why is it, Brooklyn-san, that you are not still in the infirmary where I left you?" she asked.

Brooklyn shrugged. "It's quieter here," he replied cryptically. "Besides, you know me, Sata. I hate hospitals." He placed his uninjured wing around his mate's shoulders and drew her closer, but Sata continued to stare at him quizzically for a moment longer before deciding she could wait until some other night to wring the truth from him.

"Sunrise is not far off," she commented instead. "Do you suppose you can put your dislike for hospitals aside long enough to accompany me and our children in visiting Angela-chan downstairs?"

A look of alarm flashed in the former Timedancer's eyes. "Angela's in the infirmary? What happened? Is she okay?"

"She is safe now. And it is a long story." Sata smiled gently and urged her mate to walk. "I'll tell it to you on the way."

* * *

"Okay, everyone. Visiting hours are over." Dr. Shelley Danvers clapped her hands to get the attention of the nearly dozen humans and gargoyles who crowded her medical bay. "Sunrise is in fifteen minutes, Ms. Angela needs her rest, and day shift does _not_ need a statue gallery in here." She stood to the side, crossing her arms as the final round of good-byes and get-wells were bestowed upon her latest patient, and watched as the crowd began to file out. "I want to see _you_ for a follow-up right after sunset, mister," she commented as Brooklyn and his mate moved past her, herding their children toward the door.

"I will see that he keeps the appointment, doctor," Sata replied, speaking before he could, "even if I must drag him down here myself."

"This is why I love her," Brooklyn quipped. 

Dr. Danvers put a hand to her mouth, stifling a chuckle as she noticed the gargoyle couple's twins trading glances and rolling their eyes. Behind the happy family trailed the web-winged gargoyle and his white-haired mate, then the gray-bearded elder gargoyle, who she noted with no small degree of surprise had somehow managed to pry Broadway from Angela's bedside. "Dinnae worry, lad. The lass is in good hands," Hudson was saying. He clapped a large taloned hand consolingly on the big blue gargoyle's shoulder as Broadway gave a last glance back at his mate. Angela lay reclined in her hospital bed, eyes closed and a peaceful look upon her face as she gave in at last to exhaustion and painkillers.

"She's going to be fine, Broadway," Dr. Danvers felt obliged to offer as he passed by. She gave a confident smile. "I promise. Come back tonight. You'll see."

"I'll be here," he replied. "You can count on it."

The woman nodded, waiting for the petite blonde and the sandy-haired teenage boy whose names she still had not caught to exit before turning her attention to Angela's last pair of visitors. Detective Elisa Maza stood beside the muscular leader of the gargoyle clan, clasping one of his massive hands in hers as she gave the same reassurances to him that Hudson had just given Broadway. "You heard the doctor earlier. She's going to be fine, Goliath," she said as they approached.

"Maybe even back on her feet by tonight," Dr. Danvers interjected. "She's pretty lucky, really. If she were human, I might have some concerns, but none of her injuries are severe enough that I can't see a good day of stone sleep putting her right again."

Elisa gave a wry smile. "You know, it's too bad we can't find a way to bottle that gargoyle speed-healing thing."

Dr. Danvers chuckled. "What, and put folks like me out of business?" She smiled and shook her head. "Seriously, though, detective. You've been up all night. I know it was with good reason, but I still want you to promise me you'll take care of yourself and get some rest today. You've been making good progress, and I don't want to see you relapse and end up in one of these beds again."

"Neither do I, my Elisa," Goliath intoned. 

The dark-haired woman looked up at her mate then back at the doctor, giving a resigned sigh. "Okay, I promise," she said, raising her right hand. "Scout's honor." She turned her gaze back to Goliath. "After the night we've had, I feel like I could use a nice long nap anyway."

Dr. Danvers watched them go, a quizzical smile on her face. When she had interviewed with Dr. Goldblum for a possible promotion to this job, she had been told only that it would entail interacting with an extremely varied patient base. Although she'd had her suspicions from the get-go as to what that meant, she had not been told that she would be working with gargoyles until she was formerly offered the position. She had accepted it immediately, never expecting what other surprises might lay in store along the way. "A human and a gargoyle together," she mused aloud, still smiling as she turned her attention to the dozing lavender-skinned female who was currently in her care. "You know, I'm tempted to say that now I've seen everything," she commented as she disconnected the girl's I.V. in preparation for sunrise, "but tomorrow night I'd probably just be proven wrong again."

* * *

"Please wait inside. Mrs. Xanatos will be with you shortly." The inexpressive tone of Owen's voice hinted at nothing, and Jeannie couldn't help being a bit unnerved by it as the enigmatic majordomo ushered her into an office.

"Yes, sir," she replied. The door closed behind her a moment later, and Jeannie frowned curiously. It was still hard to believe that beneath the dourly serious, wooden exterior of Owen Burnett lurked the often manic and free-spirited Puck. What strange set of circumstances must have occurred, she wondered, to bring the right hand and chief jester of the Seelie Court into the service of mortals? And beyond that, what dire offense had he committed to earn such a harsh punishment from Lord Oberon? 

To have one's powers all but taken away… to be placed under a geas and permitted to use them only under a specific, narrow range of conditions. Jeannie shuddered in empathy. At least the terms of her long imprisonment had included an out, even if winning it had taken over ten millennia and the price of freedom had been her powers in exchange for a mortal life. Had Oberon been as generous with the Puck, or was his sentence to be eternal and wholly at the Seelie Lord's whim? 

After a few more seconds of thought, Jeannie decided that perhaps it would be best to not allow herself to dwell on such unpleasant musings. She was mortal now, she reminded herself. The affairs of Court were no longer any of her concern. No, the only things that mattered now were Danny and her quest.

As she contemplated the latter, Jeannie found herself drawn to the large window which formed nearly the entire back wall of the well-furnished office. The eastern sky was brightening, and before her lay the Manhattan cityscape, glimmering in the ruddy light of the imminent dawn. Jeannie gazed out upon it in quiet amazement, her eyes drifting over the vast jungle of concrete and steel and focusing in at last upon the two slender towers standing far in the distance. They dominated the skyline as the only buildings that came anywhere close to being level with her current vantage point, and Jeannie smiled in recollection. Lady Andrea had taken her to see them during her first trip beyond the grounds of Destine Manor. They had waited in a long line and rode the crowded elevators to get all the way to the observation deck at the top. Once there, Lady Andrea had made her close her eyes before taking her by the hand and leading her to one of the tall, narrow windows. 

"Okay, Jeannie," Lady Andrea said mildly. "You can look now." Obediently, Jeannie opened her eyes, and instantly she gasped at the sight spread out before her beyond the thin pane of glass. "This is New York City, Jeannie," the artist had declared. "Pretty cool, huh?"

Speechless with awe, Jeannie had been able to do little more than slowly nod as her former Mistress began pointing out buildings and telling her their names. Not that she could remember any of them now, she thought, a bit chagrined. In marveling at the vastness of the city, most of what Lady Andrea had said had gone right over her head. Had all cities become like this one, she had wondered, and how else had the world changed since the last time she had been free to explore it? 

The trip to Cleveland had provided her with answers to some of her questions, but it had also raised new fears. Despite all that Lady Andrea had attempted to teach her, there was much about life as a human woman in the twenty-first century that Jeannie still did not understand. She was thankful she had Danny with her. He, at least, was familiar with the way the modern world worked, even if he was young and at times a bit jaded. 

"It's an impressive view, isn't it?"

The proximity of the voice made Jeannie jump. Startled from her thoughts, she turned abruptly expecting to find Fox standing beside her. Instead, she was surprised to find herself face to face with a middle-aged woman she had never seen before. The stranger was attractive, with emerald eyes and straight brown hair that came past her shoulders. She was clad in a sleeveless green dress with a draped belt of triple gold chain, and about her neck she wore a single strand of pearls and a round medallion on a matching double chain. "Yes, it is," Jeannie replied after a moment. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," the woman said. She gave a friendly smile and offered her hand. "I'm Anastasia," she said, "Fox's mother. I'm guessing you must be Jeannie."

Jeannie raised an eyebrow, curious, and made to return the handshake. "Yes, I am," she replied, wondering what Fox had said about her. As she touched Anastasia's hand, the hairs on the back of her neck inexplicably stood. Not wanting to appear rude, however, Jeannie did her best to shrug off the odd feeling and muster an amiable smile of her own. "It is nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Anastasia replied. "Though actually, now that I think about it, I believe we've met before." Her eyes twinkled, her smile taking on a mysterious quirk as the younger woman stared at her questioningly.

Jeannie shook her head. "I'm sorry, Lady Anastasia, but you must be mistaken. I-" Her voice faded to a whisper as the woman's piercing green eyes met her own. Anastasia was still clasping her hand, but she could not bring herself to pull away.

Anastasia spoke again, her tone gentle. "It was a long time ago and we were both very different people then. Don't you remember, my child?"

That voice. Suddenly its sound was so familiar. But… it just couldn't be… could it? Jeannie wanted to edge back, but the woman's gaze held her transfixed. Fay blood flowed in Lady Fox's veins, she knew that. But could her mother really be… "Queen Titania?" 

The smile Anastasia gave in reply confirmed the unbelievable before she even spoke. "Yes, my child?"

Wide-eyed, Jeannie jumped back, her hands flying to her mouth as she gasped in shock. "Oh no, my Queen, I'm so sorry!" she stammered. She fell to her knees, bowing her head contritely and pressing her palms together beneath her chin. "A thousand pardons, milady. Please forgive me. I did not know it was you!" Jeannie squeezed her eyes closed and forced herself not to tremble as she wondered at the motive for Queen Titania's visit. Had she done something wrong in tapping fay powers that she as a mortal no longer had a right to harness? Was she about to receive a reprimand from the Seelie Queen and be punished for her actions? Or had the Queen traveled here merely for the purpose of paying her halfling daughter a visit?

Delicate hands fell lightly on her shoulders. "You are forgiven, my child," Titania said. "Arise now, Daughter of Avalon. I know you are confused, but you need not be afraid." Jeannie opened her eyes, a questioning look coming to her face as she accepted the woman's hands into her own. Queen Titania had dropped the human guise of Anastasia and reverted to her true form, but the same gentle smile still graced her lips. "You are wondering why I have sought you out," the regally attired fay stated as Jeannie regained her feet.

Titania's tone seemed far from threatening, and Jeannie dared to reply, "Yes, my queen." The former djinn dropped her eyes once more. "What is it that you wish of me?" 

Titania chuckled and the musical sound, coupled with the touch of a hand to Jeannie's chin, was enough to make the timid young woman meet her gaze once more. "I have come only to deliver a message, my child. Your great quest is at an end. Lord Oberon has set in motion the return of the djinn to Avalon."

It took a second for what Titania had just said to sink in, and as it did, Jeannie's eyes went wide. Lord Oberon could do that? She had thought the dark magic woven in tandem by Lord Madoc and Lady Maeve was too potent to be undone by another, even one as powerful as Lord Oberon. "But… but how is that possible, my queen?" she found herself asking in disbelief.

The green-skinned woman chuckled again. "You made it possible, my child."

"My queen?" Jeannie shook her head. "I'm sorry… I do not understand."

"You are the first djinn to earn pardon by a mortal's hand since the fall of the Unseelie Court," Titania explained, "the first djinn to be wished free in over a thousand years. You did not know it at the time, my child, but when your Mistress released you, the geas that bound your people was fatally weakened." She paused, noting Jeannie's continued look of non-comprehension. "Perhaps it is best if I start from the beginning." 

Jeannie nodded, and Titania began the tale anew. "Soon after the Unseelie Court was finally vanquished, Lord Oberon became persuaded that the time had come to work for peace and reunite the fay. We decreed that we would let the past be forgiven, and we began our own quest to bring the prodigals home to Avalon. Our most trusted servants we dispatched to the mortal realm to begin the search for Avalon's lost children. Among those who we sought out, Jeannie, were your people, the djinn."

Slowly, Jeannie nodded in understanding. "You wanted to bring us home," she said, "but we were being held captive by dark magic."

"Yes," Titania replied, "and so our hands were tied until a mortal wished one of you free. With Lord Madoc dead and the Lady Maeve imprisoned, I had suspected that the energies that would be expended in the transformation would not be replenished. All we needed to do was wait for that moment and seize it." Titania paused, making sure she had Jeannie's complete attention. "My suspicions were proven correct. Like an egg, the web of dark magic cracked from within, and we found the opening we needed to bend the spell that could not be broken." Titania grinned and with her hand brushed the strands of blonde hair away from one of Jeannie's ears. "What I did not anticipate, though," she said, tracing along the pointed tip with a slim finger, "was that _this_ would happen."

Jeannie shivered in sudden panic. "My queen?"

"You were transformed, my child," Titania stated, "but not entirely. I can still feel Avalon's magic within you. It is weak, yes, but it is there." She let her hand fall away and smiled fondly. "You've known it yourself all along. You've used it to guide you in your quest. You've used it to help you care for the boy. And you've used it tonight to assist my daughter and Detective Maza." Titania stepped back, her smile turning mysterious again as she pressed her hands together and a green glow enveloped her. When it faded, Anastasia stood in her place once more. "Given time, my child," she added, "you may yet regain that which is your birthright."

Jeannie opened her mouth to speak, but the door opened before she could utter a word. Fox entered the office, an equally mysterious smile coming to her lips as she spotted the two women standing near the window. "I'm not interrupting, am I?" she asked. 

The sun had just broken over the horizon but Fox looked ready for bed, dressed in slippers and a flowing black silk lounging robe. Jeannie simply stared, and it was Anastasia who answered, "No, Fox. Jeannie and I were just saying our farewells."

"Alexander will be up soon." Fox stepped into Anastasia's embrace and stifled a yawn. "You're welcome to stay and visit."

"I would like that. It's been a while since I've seen my grandson." Anastasia smiled and regarded her daughter at arm's length. "You've had a long night, Fox. You should get some rest."

Fox smirked. "David just said the same thing. And I will, mother. Just as soon as I've made sure everyone upstairs is taken care of." She turned to Jeannie, staved off another yawn, and gave a rueful grin. "It seems to get more crowded around here every day."

"What are your plans now? Will you be staying here at the castle?"

It took a moment for Jeannie to realize Anastasia's questions were directed at her. "I -" She paused, suddenly realizing that the news Queen Titania had revealed to her just moments before changed everything. "I don't know," she said quietly. She looked to Fox.

"We've got plenty of guest rooms, Jeannie. All you have to do is ask." Fox put an arm around the smaller woman and began guiding her toward the door. "I think you might want to talk it over with Danny, though, before you make any permanent decisions."

Jeannie nodded. Lady Fox made a good point. Given Danny's recent experiences, she wasn't sure he would want to take up residence again at the Eyrie Building.

"Goodbye, my child," Anastasia called after them as they exited, "and good luck."

Jeannie turned to look back over her shoulder, but by the time she did, the brown-haired woman in the green dress was gone. The former djinn blinked, suddenly struck by the surreal feeling that perhaps she had imagined the whole thing. Fox said nothing more, and Jeannie did not speak, either, until the elevator doors closed a few minutes later. "Is it true, Lady Fox," she asked, "what Queen Titania said? She is your mother?"

Fox leaned tiredly against the wall as the car ascended. "Yes. It's true," she said, smirking. "I'm a fairy princess."

The grin that played across the auburn-haired woman's face was contagious, and Jeannie couldn't help but giggle. She blushed as she caught herself. "I'm sorry, Lady Fox," she said, "I do not mean to pry. It just took me by surprise, that's all."

Fox chuckled. "You were surprised? Imagine what is was like for me. I didn't find out who she really was until my son was born."

Something in the exhausted woman's tone told Jeannie that the story behind the wry comment was a long one that she did not have time to inquire after now. Though it intrigued her, she let it be, and a few seconds later the elevator doors slid open to reveal the castle's Great Hall.

With sunrise come and past, the gathered ranks had thinned considerably since Jeannie had left them. Off to one side, Elisa and Xanatos stood talking to Matt, who with his coat still on looked to have just arrived. Nearby, Danny sat waiting on a low stone bench, his and Jeannie's duffel bags at his feet. As the two women exited the elevator, the halfling teen got up and hurried to Jeannie's side.

"I was getting worried about you. Burnett wouldn't tell me where he'd taken you."

"It's okay, Danny." Jeannie hugged the boy and watched out of the corner of her eye as Fox moved off to join her husband. "Lady Fox just had someone she wanted me to meet." She smiled. "I'll tell you all about it later, okay?"

"Sure, Jeannie." Danny nodded and glanced back down at their bags on the floor. "So what's next for us, anyway?" He looked over as the others began to approach. "Cleveland was a nice place to visit and all, but I don't think I wanna go back and live there."

"Why not stay here, in New York?" Xanatos suggested. He eyed Jeannie contemplatively and traded a glance with his wife. She yawned and smiled back tolerantly, and David gamely forged ahead. "I have it on good authority that you've suddenly found yourself with a lot of free time. I believe I might be able to find a position for a woman of your unique talents if you were to decide to stay."

Danny edged closer to Jeannie, and she could feel the growing tension radiating off the young halfling. "I appreciate your kind offer, Mr. Xanatos," Jeannie demurred, "but I really do need some time to consider my options, and I do not wish to impose upon your household."

Fox tugged at her husband's arm and gave him a look that said "I told you so," and that was enough to get the billionaire to relent. "Perfectly understandable," he replied. "It's been a long and, shall we say, interesting night. You need to sleep on it." He smiled and looked at his wife, patting the slim hand that rested on his forearm. "We could all use some rest," he said as they moved off. "If you decide you're interested, you know where to reach us."

Matt exchanged a curious look with his partner. Elisa brushed the hair back from her eyes and stared after the couple for a moment before saying, "I really need to get some shut-eye, too. Doctor's orders." She smiled at Jeannie and Danny. "Don't go running off so fast this time, you two," she teased. "Angela's at least going to want a chance to say thanks, you know." Jeannie nodded, and Elisa turned Matt. "I'll catch up with you later, okay? You can tell me the whole story about Ling again, 'cause I'm sure after ten hours in bed, I won't remember half of it."

"Sure thing," Matt said as Elisa stepped away. "And you can tell me all about how you managed to track down Angela, now that you've given me the Cliff's Notes."

"I will," Elisa promised. She gave a last tired smile back at her soon-to-be former partner before breaking into a light jog. A short distance later, she caught up with the lord and lady of the castle as they turned down the hall leading to the residential wing. "So," she drawled facetiously as she fell into step beside Fox, "do you suppose there's any positions available here for a woman of _my_ unique talents?"

David regarded Elisa pensively, while Fox chuckled and put her arm around the dark-haired woman's shoulders, pulling her close. "Don't worry, Elisa. With all of your skills, I'm sure I can dream up something if I try."

* * *

The awkward silence seemed to stretch out for several long minutes as Elisa's departure left human, halfling, and former djinn standing alone in the Great Hall. "So what was that 'lots of free time' comment all about?" Matt asked Jeannie at last. "I thought you were on a quest or something."

"I was," Jeannie replied softly, still amazed at her unexpected audience with Queen Titania, "but my journey has taken another strange turn and I find myself at loose ends." 

Matt eyed the slight woman carefully, and Danny greeted the news with a raised eyebrow. "So no more frying yourself by the side of a lake looking for the bottled masses?" Danny quipped.

"Bottled masses. That's funny, kid," Matt said as his exhausted brain finally translated the pun. 

The play on words meant nothing to Jeannie, but she nodded. "Others have taken on my charge."

Jeannie offered nothing further, and Matt found himself trading a questioning look with the teenage boy. "Well, it's late," the detective said at last. "I should get you two home."

"Home?" Danny said. "Good one, Bluestone. In case you've forgotten, we're sort of lacking in that department."

"Danny," Jeannie corrected gently. "Don't be rude." She smiled at Matt. "If you could help us find a motel." The uncomfortable look associated with tight funds briefly pinched at her eyes. "We'll be fine." 

Matt shook his head. "No, I meant home. My home. With me. You can stay in my spare room and Danny can have the couch. It's nothing fancy, but it's quiet and you can stay as long as you like. There's some paperwork that Danny and I need to clear up -" The teenager rolled his eyes but otherwise held his tongue. "- but once that's taken care of I've got some time off coming. Maybe -"

Danny couldn't stand it any longer. His sarcasm circuits were overloading as he watched the two adults give each other awkward but hopeful glances then look quickly any place but at each other. Bluestone didn't seem so bad, really, and Jeannie was going to need someone beside himself to keep an eye on her. He pressed his hands together, dropped to one knee and looked beseechingly up at the pair. "Oh please, Jeannie, may we? There's no place I'd rather spend the next couple of nights than on Detective Bluestone's lumpy couch."

"It's a very generous offer -"

"Good," Matt said as he picked up their duffels and handed them off to Danny. "Then it's all settled."

Danny was humming the theme to _The Brady Bunch_ as the elevator doors opened to take them downstairs.

* * * * *

It was half an hour before shift change, and the bullpen was quiet. At several desks detectives sat typing up their reports, and over in the corner an elderly women was sitting painfully upright kneading at a handkerchief as a uniformed officer handed her a glass of water. Even after she was gone, life would go on. Elisa crossed the bullpen, quickly nodding at those detectives who acknowledged her. If they wondered what she was doing there so early, no one asked. She knocked on Captain Chavez's door and entered. "Thank you for seeing me," she said as Chavez racked her telephone and waved her in.

"Have a seat, Elisa," The captain's voice was noncommittal. "You look like you're feeling better."

__

Good, Elisa thought_. Be angry. Be disappointed. Make this easy._ "Yeah, the doctors say I'm fine. Well enough, at any rate, to do this." She withdrew an envelope from her jacket pocket and thrust it across the desk. "I thought I'd save the department some trouble. Here's my letter of resignation."

Chavez took the envelope without comment and opened it. She read it over. In her mind's eye Elisa could see the strong lines of her handwriting and the words written in black ink: "To My Departmental Superiors. Effectively immediately, I, Detective Elisa Maza do hereby tender my resignation for personal reasons and the good of the department." It had only taken three drafts to write the short note in a steady hand.

"Very noble of you, detective," Chavez commented as she set the letter down on the desk. 

"Under the circumstances, I thought it best," Elisa replied stiffly. "Now if there's nothing else, I'll go clean out my desk and locker."

She rose to go and made it out of the chair and nearly to the door when the captain's voice stilled her. "I didn't say we were through, detective."

Elisa took the last step and her hand fell to the doorknob. She looked back at her former boss and steeled herself for the inevitable torrent that was sure to be forthcoming. Matt, when she'd finally pried the story from him, said the captain had been pretty burned up and that had been secondhand fallout. "I didn't think there was anything more to say."

"Sit down."

Chastened like a schoolgirl, Elisa sat and folded her hands in her lap. 

"It's true, I wasn't happy about the way I discovered your relationship with the gargoyle clan's leader," Chavez admitted.

"His name," Elisa said softly but with pride, "is Goliath."

"I was disappointed," Chavez continued. "I thought I was your friend as well as your mentor and Captain. You didn't give me the opportunity -"

"The opportunity to what?" Elisa said hotly. "Bring me up on charges yourself? Matt told me you threatened an inquiry against us both."

"I was only stating what the likely departmental reaction would be when certain deputy commissioners found out," Chavez replied, barely controlling her own temper. "If you had come to me and told me the truth I could have -"

"Helped us fill out the Domestic Partner paperwork?" Elisa spat, glad to finally release the awful tension that had been building since she'd resolved to quit her job. "Got Goliath assigned as the beneficiary on my pension plan?"

"Well, no," Chavez admitted. "I don't think the department is ready for that. But I could have done this." She opened a file drawer adjacent to her desk, pulled out a manila folder and handed it to Elisa. 

"What's this?" 

"Open it and find out."

Elisa studied the folder for a moment and then flipped it open. Inside were several sheets of departmental stationary with the personnel department's logo at the top. "Liaison Officer to the Gargoyle Clan of Manhattan." She looked up in non-comprehension. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No joke," Chavez replied. "I've been working on this for months, ever since I figured out that you seemed to be the one the gargoyles would turn to. It's different from the Gargoyle Task Force. Their job was to pacify the masses that the clan wasn't a threat. Your job, should you decide to accept it, will be to help integrate their activities with that of the department, to legitimatize their role so that we can end the cries of 'vigilante justice'. What do you think?"

Elisa quickly read the rest of the document. Same pay, no mention of reassignment, just the additional duty of liaison officer. "No inquiry," she said, dumbfounded. "No departmental review board? No Internal Affairs?"

"No, just a legitimate reason to keep doing what you're already doing; helping the clan integrate itself as useful members of society."

Elisa looked up, still unable to believe the sudden turn of events. "And what about my relationship with Goliath?"

Chavez sighed and gave her an uneasy look. "I'm going to ask you to continue to be discreet about that. Society is changing and becoming more accepting, but I'm not sure that it or this department is officially ready for interspecies relationships." She paused for a moment and then added, "Of course, if you were to escort him to some event, say the Mayoral Ball, somebody would have to dance with him, just to break the ice." 

Elisa smiled. It wasn't perfect, but the Captain had opened a door and all she had to do was step through it. "What's the catch?"

Chavez frowned. "Have you always been this suspicious?" She opened another drawer and this time removed Elisa's service revolver and badge and placed them on the desk. She picked up Elisa's letter of resignation and tore it in half, and then put the halves through the paper shredder next to her desk. "You can have tonight off, but starting next week I want you back on shift. Is that understood?"

Elisa nodded numbly. "Yes, Captain."

"Good, now get out of my office. Some people still have work to do."

"Why?" Elisa managed. Her legs were shaky with relief and she found herself unable to move from the chair."

"Why?" Chavez replied, looking up from the shift calendar where she was printing Elisa's name back on the roster. "Because this city never sleeps. Or haven't you heard?"

Elisa shook her head. "No. I mean why are you doing all this? Why are you helping us?"

Captain Chavez put down her pen. "Elisa, how much garbage have you taken to be one of the guys?" Elisa shrugged. Sure, she'd been hazed, all cops were, it was part and parcel of joining the blue fraternity. Some of the pranks weren't so fun, that was true. The ones she was forced to endure with a smile and a dismissive laugh sent the message that some people didn't welcome her as part of their brotherhood. "I went through it too. When I started out there weren't many women in the force, especially women of color."

"Pretty rough?"

Chavez nodded with a wry purse of her lips. "Yeah, Elisa, pretty rough. These days, we'd like to believe it's better. We talk a lot about tolerance. We have classes in sensitivity training. Still, you'd think that those of use who have experienced prejudice would be sensitive to it and not inflict it on others." Chavez drew a deep breath and let it out. She continued, her voice soft. "I reacted badly when I found out about you and Goliath. My reaction was racist, pure and simple. I'm sorry."

"You were caught off guard," Elisa supplied. 

"That's no excuse," Chavez said firmly. "But let that be a warning to you. You never know who is going to react poorly." She looked away, still ashamed at her admission. "By not accepting your resignation, I'm making a stand. You're a good cop, Elisa. That's all that should matter to this department. Your personal life is none of our business."

"But what about all that stuff about interfering with investigations?"

Chavez met her eyes. "Did you ever, in the course of protecting Goliath or his clan, interfere in a police investigation to the extent that it damaged a case?"

Elisa thought back. She'd skated the line once or twice, and balking about talking to Angela had brought her dangerously close, but she'd never crossed it. "No."

"And I don't believe you ever will," Chavez said firmly. "You value your job too highly to put your personal motivations ahead of it. You continue to do your job, and I'll shield you as best I can from the politics. Do we have a deal?"

Elisa nodded, a sense of relief slowly washing over her. "Yeah, Captain, we have a deal."

"Good, now get going. I wasn't kidding about some of us needing to get to work."

Elisa rose. "Thanks Captain," she said as she exited. She made it as far as her desk before her knees collapsed. 

She sat in the creaky metal chair with the ripped plastic padding digging at her thigh and surveyed the squad room. It had gotten busier during her talk with the captain. More of the detectives from her watch had filtered in and were talking in small knots and clusters with the day shift crew about the usual things: cases, the weather, a softball game one of the guys had organized between the shifts that was supposed to take place that weekend. 

"Hey, Maza, I know you're still on the DL, but you're gonna come and cheer us on, aren't you?" Williams asked. 

Elisa looked up at the new girl in the squad, at the other officers, at the suspects and the victims. This was her place. "Yeah, I wouldn't miss it for the world." She was home.

* * * * *

__

The End


End file.
